


Enchantment

by Annemarie01



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family History, Minor Violence, Road Trips, Sex, Some Humor, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 229,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: Hawke enters Kirkwall with not only the grief of what she has lost, but also with a few secrets of her own. A new secret will even surprise herself and the encounter with a Tevinter elf will not help the situation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts as business as usual, but soon after will take it's own turn. Romance and problems aplenty, of cource. Lots of it, in fact. Eventually our heroes will embark on a grand adventure in an attempt to unravel Malcolm Hawke's well kept secret. Along the way they will meet with several characters plucked from DAO. And, as some kind of natural force, Varric will follow them, if only to register all they will encounter along the way. (And mostly because I couldn't ignore him; he's too lovable!)

Enchantment Chapter 1 

\- 

He was running franticly, trying not to think, trying not to let the panicking feeling that threatened to overwhelm him take over. He had killed them. _He had killed them._ It had taken just one command to turn against them and slay them all. As long as he could remember, he had obeyed his master; he never had had another choice. There never had been a choice. He was his master’s possession and he had always done as he had been ordered. He hadn’t even been surprised his master had turned up. Of course he would find him to drag him back to Minrathous. And of course he would instruct him to slaughter his saviours. So why had he turned away and ran off after the grisly deed had been done? It didn’t just horrify him, it made him mortally afraid. He wasn’t supposed to act that way, he wasn’t created to act that way. 

No thinking _no thinking._

He was covered in their blood, and the smell, the more pungent in the stifling heat, made him dizzy and nauseous. He tripped over and retched until he just coughed up pure acid. He stumbled onto his feet and made it to a cool rippling brook, not ten yards away. He fell again, head forward in the refreshing stream and drank until he retched once more. He rolled onto his back and lay motionless in the cold water, listening. The jungle around him was full of sound, but there was no hint of pursuing soldiers. Well, he had killed them as well, hadn’t he, in his unsettling frenzy. So why hadn’t he killed _him_? 

No! That was unthinkable, he could not have raised his hand against his master, the mere thought made his panic rise again. Fleeing from him was the most extreme deed against him he had been able to achieve. And even that startled him now. 

In the years to come he would ponder that feeling on a daily basis, ever more regretting he had not taken the opportunity of killing Danarius in his most vulnerable moment. 

Finally he scrambled onto his feet and made his way to the coast. Little did he know he finally would end up in Kirkwall, the City of Chains of all places, where his life would again take an unexpected turn. A turn that would disturb him in many ways. 

\- 

She was running, they were all running. Away from the Darkspawn, away from the total destruction, away from death. She didn’t want to think of what they were forced to leave behind. The friendly town they had lived in for years. Gone. Her lover. Dead. She didn’t even want to think about the future. The only thing that mattered now was survival.  


No thinking _no thinking_. 

She turned when she heard Leandra cry out and was just in time to flail a ball of fire at the horrid creatures that threatened to overwhelm her mother. No Templars here, no need to hide her magic if it could kill faster than her daggers. Her brother gave out a shout of warning while he at the same time attacked a group of Darkspawn that suddenly approached from the opposite direction. Another fireball flew, together with an outburst of ice, cast from her sister’s staff. 

Survival, all that mattered was survival. She had to get her family into safety. 

Kirkwall was the last place she had wanted to go, it was a city infested with Templars after all, but they ended up there anyway because of her mother’s heritage. Together with a red-haired officer of the shattered Ferelden army they had stumbled upon during their desperate flight. The officer that was, not the army, that existed no more. Aveline was her name, she learned, and she lost her husband on the run because of the taint of the Blight. Just as they lost sweet Bethany to an ogre. Even the surprising turn up of the Witch of the Wild, Flemeth, could not have prevented both heartbreaking events. They arrived at the city weeks later, all of them mourning, grieving over the losses they had to bear. She never could have guessed how many strange and often painful bolts the forthright and sometimes hard-headed Lady of Fate would shoot at her. 

\- 

Kirkwall had hit him like a hammer. For starters there had been the two statues that had welcomed him while sailing into the harbour. The huge statues of battered slaves, bronze figures clung in chains and fettered to the rocks that embraced and protected the port as a natural defence. It had come as a shock. He knew that the city had once been a part of the Tevinter Imperium, that slaves had been hauled down here to serve in the mines and the foundries, but he hadn’t been prepared for the bare witness of that time, still visible. After that came the smell, well frankly, the stench. Not only the harbour stank but also all of Lowtown, the part of the city he allowed himself to stay in. He had found a cheap tavern to scout from. The harbour had smelled of dead fish and foul water, Lowtown reeked of filth, rats and misery. Not until he had been forced to visit the Undercity, also known as Darktown, the part of Kirkwall where the really desperate had flocked together in the meagre, if not non-existent hope, to find a sort of – living, in lack of a better word, he had thought that Lowtown was the most dreadful place he had ever seen in his life. The smell of Darktown was indescribable. Disease and death came closest. 

Ironically, it was both Darktown and Hightown that eventually gave him the answers. In the end Lowtown had little to do with it, although it played its own very significant role. Especially the Alienage he hated the moment he saw it. Being an elf himself, although he had never felt much relationship with any elven community whatsoever, it was almost unbearable to witness how his race was compulsory to live in this way. Hardly better than slaves, worse than servants, deprived of all dignity, forced into poverty and a life of servitude. Nevertheless he had been given no choice than to use the appalling elven quarter because that choice had been made for him. And the encounter he had in that place would mark the rest of his life. So yes, noticeable after all. 

Hightown smelled of expensive spices, rich silk and good food. This part of the city was filled with grand buildings; it held the palace of the Viscount who ruled the city, at least as best as he could, the Chantry where the Maker was worshipped, and numerous wonderful mansions and estates that reminded him of Minrathous although the style of building was completely different. Far less flamboyant. He liked that. The arrogant attitude of the nobles occupying the expensive houses, however, was yet the same as in Tevinter or in Orlais or any other country he had visited with Danarius. Hightown also held a theatre, a renowned rather fashionable brothel and several bathhouses. Lowtown was the proud owner of a bathhouse as well and although it couldn’t compete with the grandeur of the ones in Hightown, he preferred this one. In Hightown his former master Danarius owned a mansion, so he found out after with much care bribing several persons. One of the bribed informers, paid with stolen money, had told him also that there were a lot of Tevinters in town of late. Slave hunters no doubt. He had never believed that Danarius had been willing to give up on his valuable runaway slave so easily, so he wasn’t surprised. There was even a strong rumour going the round that his former master would be in town to witness him being recaptured. He acknowledged by then he couldn’t do this on his own anymore. He needed assistance. After a significant amount of money had changed hands, he was in the possession of two names. The one who could do the job, and had apparently become some kind of a legend in the more inferior parts of the city, and the one who was able to put that legend in touch with him. He was no rogue, but the years being on the run had taught him some of the abilities. Stealth had almost become a second nature. And so he had stayed in the shadows while overhearing an argument between slave hunters in a by Tevinters claimed warehouse at the docks. The discussion was about a bait to lure him into a trap, set in a hovel in the Alienage. He was not surprised to receive a message the following day by a young Fereldan boy, who undoubtedly knew nothing about him, or his predicament, but just wanted to earn a few silvers. The boy told him to be present in the Alienage the following night so that he could learn more of his past. There would be a chest that would reveal everything about his past he had lost. Of course he did not believe him. It just made him more alert than before. Apparently he had been spotted. 

That same night he moved for the sixth time. 

In Darktown he had previously met the dwarf named Anso, the one who had pointed him to the existence of the Tevinters in Kirkwall, and now he returned to him to persuade him to perform a little trick to win over the, according to the grapevine, only being in Kirkwall worthy to help him get rid of Danarius and his slavers. Anso had claimed before to know a dwarf in her entourage (he had been surprised to learn the so called legend happened to be female) and how to contact him with the needed delicacy and subterfuge, and again a substantial amount of coins changed hands. He could only pray that it would turn out the way he hoped it would. Too bad he wasn’t the praying kind. It goes unsaid that he had been extremely cautious with his investigations and thus moved regularly from one cheep watering hole to another. The only place he hadn’t used was the Hanged Man and in the end that turned out to be rather ironical. 

\- 

Her name chimed through the city, at least through the quarters that really mattered. Hightown was not a part of it – yet but she had made sure that the reputation of the Red Iron mercenaries had risen since she had joined their ranks. And even though she had by now quit them and tried to make a living of her own, the standing lingered. She was aware of it, although she felt very ambivalent about the dubious honour, to say the best of it. Being famous was damned dangerous for a mage in a city like Kirkwall; it was dangerous anywhere but under the prying eyes of Knight Commander Meredith it became even more hazardous. Even for a mage who acted like a rogue. She had tried very hard to be noticed as a warrior and not as someone with magical powers, but she was constantly frightened that her cover would be blown apart. Momentarily she was glowering at Varric. 

‘This is all but your fault,’ she scoffed. 

The blond haired and beardless dwarf threw dramatically his arms in the air. (His chest hair made more than up for the lack of a beard, as he himself was willing to declare on a regular basis. And besides that, he stated, facial hair was only good for collecting leftovers and therefore disgusting. He loathed the idea of smelling all day what he had had for breakfast). 

‘What, did you want me to be silent about your actions? That would be no less than a sin!’ he exclaimed. 

‘You could at least be silent about my so called love affairs.’ At this point Hawke was glaring viciously at him. 

‘You can’t deny you had them,’ Varric wickedly grinned. 

‘Not in the way you describe them!’ Hawke protested with force. 

They were gathered in the Hanged Man where Varric and the exotic pirate queen, momentarily-alas-without-a-ship, Isabela both inhabited a room. The tavern had the best name in Lowtown and that said a lot about the other drinking holes. The walls were greasy, the floor covered with grime, if not blood and vomit, and the ale and whisky had a whole own – special taste. A night without a bar brawl was a very quiet one. 

‘Are you sure? I rather liked them,’ Isabela crooned. She licked her upper lip in a very suggestive way. 

Hawke rolled her eyes. Isabela was prone to like anything even slightly related to sex. 

‘You _know_ my brother reads your crap and of course is more than happy to pass it on to my mother. This latest fight with her is due to you.’ Hawke pointed an accusing finger at the dwarf. 

Varric raised his hands in defence. ‘My dear lady! It was never my intend to offend you. And besides that, I think that you are more than capable to quarrel with your mother on your own account. But let me make it up to you.’ He but just smothered a string of curses and he knew it. ‘I have it from an – acquaintance – that we can earn some serious coin.’ 

Hawke calmed down somewhat and raised a brow. ‘Let me guess, you got the information from some lost dwarf who just fled the depths of Orzammar to find himself in the loving embrace of our Undercity,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Some wonderful story that will make.’ It had been a wild presumption to be honest, but by the look on the dwarf’s face she had not been far from the truth. 

‘But with the promise of good coin,’ Varric pointed out, happily. ‘And yes, Anso is from Orzammar but I believe him far from lost and he isn’t living in Darktown. He just has a foothold there for – business. He has been in Kirkwall for over a year now but still has his contacts in the dwarven city. I admit it’s the first time I have dealings with him, but according to my connections he is reliable. The only thing we have to do is to retrieve the continence of a chest hidden in some hovel in the Alienage. Easy as that and he is paying handsomely for it. Five sovereigns.’ 

Hawke stared hard at him. ‘A dwarf with contacts in Orzammar and a foothold in Darktown? Yeah right. You think to fool me? You can tell me blatantly that this is all about contraband. And since your contact is a dwarf with contacts in Orzammar, the contraband is undoubtedly lyrium,’ she said flatly. 

Varric kept his face straight. ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ he stated. ‘I only had my ear on the money. Five sovereigns, Hawke.’ 

Marian sighed wholeheartedly. Lyrium. If anyone caught them with that stuff, their lives were forfeit. Templars drank the blighted venom to control mages, but a lot of them got so addicted to it that the portions the Order allowed were not enough. That knowledge had started a very profitable smuggling business that not only kept the dwarven circle of Carta criminals very wealthy, but also attracted a colourful bunch of human pirates and muggers. And they all fought among each other for the best share. Between those groups the City Guard did their best to arrest anyone they could put their hands upon. Aveline, who had joined them, would have a heart attack if she heard about this. And besides that ... 

‘Just empty a chest hidden in the Alienage? It sounds a bit too easy if you ask me,’ Hawke said, pensively. ‘It makes my hackles rise.’ 

‘I must confess I feel the same but we still have our eyes and ears. And I can always rely on Bianca,’ Varric replied reassuringly, referring to his trusted crossbow that he never let out of sight. 

Hawke tapped with her index finger of her right hand on her lower lip. ‘Alright, we could use the money,’ she finally gave in. ‘Care to join us?’ she turned to the dark tanned, eccentric – to say the least – pirate, ‘of course you will have your share of the profit.’ 

Isabela beamed at her. ‘Are you serious? Naturally I will join you. I can never turn down a good profit, or an adventure. Or you.’ 

Vigorously Hawke ignored her sexual teemed grin.

\- 

And of course it turned out to be a trap. 

After swearing about a very empty chest and cursing Anso into the depths of the Void, they found themselves outside the hovel surrounded by an aggressive group of assailants determined to end their lives. It was a fierce but short fight and it could have been amusing if it hadn’t been so annoying for the waste of time. 

‘I have blood on my coat, I hate that,’ Varric grumbled after finishing off the last attacker. 

‘O shut up, dwarf, I think one of my daggers has caught a notch; much worse than a drop of blood on your clothes,’ Hawke threw back. ‘It will cost me hours of honing and polishing before the blade is in the right shape again. You owe me more than one drink after this debacle.’ 

‘I told you to buy better knives,’ Varric retorted. 

But before they could start a friendly squabble, they were cut short by a very annoyed man who suddenly appeared on the stairs leading down to the Alienage. 

‘I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’ll make sure you will regret it greatly,’ he growled. 

Hawke folded her arms and cocked her head to take a good look at him in the dim light that was cast by the moon and the few lit torches in the Alienage. He wore a heavy steal breastplate with the same crest as the soldiers they killed just minutes before, but in another colour. She suspected he was a commander of some sort. A cowardly one she decided, commanders belonged with their men in battle. The man had descended the stairs by now and stood glaring furiously back at her. 

‘Really? I hope you notice the corpses.’ Hawke vaguely waved a hand around her. ‘So perhaps _you_ should be the one regretting showing up.’ 

He didn’t bother to respond her. ‘Lieutenant!’ he roared, ‘get your sorry arse over here and take these jokers prisoner!’ 

‘My, this is a confident one,’ Isabela smirked while Hawke started to laugh aloud.She got interrupted by a man, probably the lieutenant, who was slumping down the stairs as if he had been pushed. Besides that he was bleeding heavily. 

‘Captain,’ he croaked before he fell down completely. He stayed motionless, clumsily draped over the steps and never got up again. Before any of them could react, a third voice floated into the courtyard. 

It was a voice that sounded like molten dark sugar, like a touch of rough velvet, like a night of incredibly hot sex. It entered Hawke’s ears to hit her lower brain and from there on descended down her spine to nestle somewhere deep in her stomach. A voice like that could cause orgies with severe casualties. No one should be allowed to sound like this. What exactly the voice was saying, completely passed her over; she was too occupied trying to cope with the sheer reverberation and what it did to her body. It didn’t get any better when the owner of the voice came into sight. The first thing she noticed was the shock of pure white, moonlike hair, nonchalantly tousled as if the wind had swept through it. When the person moved down the stairs, with much more grace than the lieutenant moments before, his face became visible. A wonderful handsome face, a perfect match with the voice. Large, wide-set eyes – she regretted she couldn’t make out the colour in this dusk – dark brows in an astonishing contrast to his hair, a straight nose above sensual curved lips. An elven face, she realised. It was carried by a lanky, lithe frame, long for an elf, clad in leather and steal. His partly bare arms were covered with strange but beautiful looking lines that waved around his taut muscles like vines. He stopped at the bottom of the set of steps and intently looked at her. 

She was afraid her knees would give way. 

_One word, Isabela_ , she thought, _just one wrong word and I will strangle you_. 

_O, for the Maker’s sake, get a hold on yourself, you idiot._

‘You are going nowhere, slave,’ the captain barked, apparently replying to something the elf had said but she had entirely missed. He slapped his hand heavily on the apparition’s shoulder. That turned out to be his last mistake. The elf twisted round fast as a viper and the white markings suddenly flared as blue lighting. His spiked gauntlet moved into the captain’s body and, Hawke was not entirely certain she saw this right, through it, before he withdrew his hand with the same speed. The commander collapsed and his corpse joined with his dead subordinate. 

‘I am not a slave,’ the elf declared coolly while he turned his attention back to her. 

_Okay, done with drooling and gaping. Say something and it better be good._

‘Nice trick. You don’t see that being performed on a daily basis,’ she managed, pretty lamely. 

He gave her a mirthless smile in return. ‘I suppose you don’t,’ he said. ‘It comes with the markings.’ 

‘I admit you don’t see those on a daily basis either.’ She tried to make light of the unsettling situation but he ignored her remark. Instead he had the politeness to introduce himself and to give at least some explanation of the intriguing circumstances. 

‘My name is Fenris. The men you have been fighting,’ his eyes lingered a short moment on the corpses, ‘rather successfully so it appears, were Imperial slave hunters, hired by my former master. I’m sorry I couldn’t assist you, but I was hold up by – some resistance.’ 

‘We met him,’ Hawke said with a strained smile. Her eyes fluttered over the very dead body of the lieutenant, before they returned to the elf’s more than attractive appearance. ‘Apparently you took also care of any other aggressors.’ 

‘Indeed I did,’ he replied without any smile at all. ‘There are more bodies in the ally, if you are interested.’ 

‘I don’t need evidence to believe you,’ Hawke hastened to say. The intriguing, beautiful elf sounded trustworthy. He sounded much more than that. Knee weakening, heart fluttering and mind numbing. Some more intense glances were exchanged. 

‘So you are an escaped slave,’ Hawke finally concluded to fill the silence before it became awkward. She noticed her voice sounded rather hoarse. She also noticed Varric, sniggering. He would get the same treatment she had in store for Isabela if he weren’t careful. 

Fenris looked at her as if he was trying to decide whether she was smart, retarded or willing to turn him in. She gave him her most charming smile in return – she hoped. ‘That explains why this whole, er, enterprise was surrounded with such mystifying concealment,’ she attempted to clarify. ‘I mean, Anso wasn’t exactly clear about it at all, I mean, that is, he made us believe it was all about lyrium, more or less,’ she helplessly stuttered on. ‘I mean, he should have said it was about fighting slavers in the first place. Kindled enthusiasm ensured.’ 

_And that was three times “I mean” and at least two times too many, you moron_. 

The elf raised his brows a few millimetres. 

_O Maker._

‘I mean, ( _aargh_!) I’m willing to slay slavers anytime.’ She felt three inches high by now. 

‘Very eloquent, Hawke,’ Varric murmured, ‘I applaud thee.’ 

_Blasted dwarf_. 

Heroically Hawke straightened her shoulders. ‘You could have contacted me directly without using Anso,’ she bravely continued. ‘I would have been more than willing to help you.’ 

He looked at her with that utterly distressing gaze. ‘It would be nice to believe you,’ he said, ‘but my experiences have taught me to be careful, although I appreciate your intent. I do, however, apologise for the diversion and the trouble it has caused you.’ He knelt beside the dead commander and rummaged around in his pockets. He retrieved something that looked like some kind of seal. When he stood up again a mixed combination of anger and agony showed in his face. It almost made her knees buckle. 

_Shit_! 

‘It seems that my former master is indeed in the city, as I feared already. If I don’t confront him right now it could be too late. I’m afraid I must ask for your aid again.’ 

Hawke was almost certain that the agony, now showing on his face, was not only due to the presence of this mysterious master of his, but also, and perhaps even more, to the fact he was forced to ask for help. He seemed not only to be proud, but also suspicious. Probably with good reasons. 

‘I will compensate you for your time and effort,’ he hastened to add. 

Disregarding that remark with an almost unnoticable impatient gesture of her hand, she asked, ‘Who is this master you speak of?’ 

Fenris swallowed visibly. ‘His name is Danarius, he is a powerful Magister in Tevinter,’ he explained. 

Varric sharply suck in breath. Marian knew what he meant to make clear. Tevinter Magisters were not to be toyed with. They for instance used blood magic with the ease a cook used salt. They didn’t recoil from human sacrifices, well mostly elven sacrifices as far as she understood. They gave all mages a bad name. Her father had taught her quite a lot about them, as a bad example not to be followed. And apparently Fenris had been at such a Magister’s mercy. Anger struck her. 

‘I would be more than happy to hunt him down,’ she said determinately. She turned to look at her companions; not so much as to ask for their permission, but merely to convince them of her decision. 

‘Well, coin never hurts,’ Varric said, though he sounded somewhat cautious. ‘And I believe I have to make up to you.’ 

‘How much I would like to participate in this inviting adventure with such delightful company,’ Isabela started with a hungry look on the handsome elf, and Hawke couldn’t help glaring at her, ‘I’m afraid I have an, er, appointment to keep. But tell me all about it in the morning.’ That would be around noon, with luck. 

‘In that case we should ask your brother to accompany us,’ Varric said, reproachfully. ‘Just the three of us going after a Tevinter Magister would prove not to be quite enough.’ 

Hawke sighed. How much she hated the idea, she knew the dwarf was right. ‘In that case we will have to make a stop at the Blooming Rose,’ she said. She smiled half-heartedly at the elf. ‘Don’t ask,’ she meekly added. 

And he didn’t. He just looked blank. 

-

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you three chapters in one row but, of course, something went wrong. Sorry about that! So, right now, I'll make it up to you.

Chapter 2

-

Hawke had been more than happy to leave the remove-grumpy-Carver-from-the-brothel part to Varric. She knew for sure she wouldn’t have been able to muster the sensitivity and diplomacy to drag her brother from the establishment without putting up a fight. She would without doubt have made a scene because of lack of patience. While Fenris and she were waiting, she had lowered herself on a crate facing the entrance of the Blooming Rose and Fenris had positioned himself against a pillar. In a very elegant way. She tried not to take notice.

‘I do apologize,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I know time is pressing but we really need my brother. He is a good swordsman with experience, he fought at Ostagar.’ She realized damn well she was defending herself more than her brother by saying this. She wasn’t ashamed that they had to fetch her sibling from a brothel, but she knew how blunt and, well, insufferable Carver could be. She was afraid he would affront Fenris and hoped the elf would forgive her if he understood that she only dragged Carver along because of his fighting skills.

Fenris nodded knowingly. Not about the complicated relation between her and her brother, she suspected.

‘You are speaking of the Blight,’ he said with that maddening voice that traced down her entrails and resonated against her heart. ‘I’ve heard of it. Ostagar was a forlorn battle wasn’t it? I understand Ferelden lost their king there. Almost everyone perished, or so I’ve learned.’

That brought back horrible memories but she hardly could blame him. After all she had been the one who had brought it up. To defend her brother. And now she got drenched with unwanted recollections, all of her own doing. She looked away and pursed her lips into a thin line. ‘We were betrayed,’ she said in a harsh voice. ‘By the last one we thought capable of betrayal. When the signal came up, general Logain Mac Tir just turned away and left King Cailan and all of us to die on the battlefield.’

‘You were there as well?’ He sounded genuinely astounded.

She bit down a sharp retort. ‘Why are you surprised at that?’

Despite her effort she must have sounded more callously than she intended because he hastened to apologize. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, but you look more than a rogue to me than a warrior or a soldier.’

‘I agree I am a rogue and not really a soldier, but the army could use every blade at Ostagar. After all the odds where strained to start with, despite Cailan’s optimism.’

Yes, a rogue and it wasn’t exactly a lie. She fidgeted on her crate and looked at her feet. How could he know about her hitherto well kept secret after all? (Well kept except for her best friends and family, of course). How could he have known about her anxiety back then? There had been mages at Ostagar, she remembered clearly, sent by the Circle. She had been scared as hell to be recognised as being in fact one of them instead of the rogue she pretended to be. She nervously worried her lip. ‘To be honest, my brother was too young to fight with the army at that time but he was determined to do so nevertheless,’ she said, trying to choose her words carefully. ‘Of course he lied about his age when he signed up. I didn’t want to stop him however, mostly because I knew I would not have been able to. Instead I went with him to protect him as best as I could. I think he will never forgive me for that.’ She looked up and gave Fenris a wan smile.

‘And it was you who dragged him from the battlefield when the situation had become hopeless,’ the elf said, perceptively.

She shrugged, in the meantime trying not to act too nonchalantly. ‘Another example of my deeds he will never forgive,’ she admitted. She wanted to end this unsavoury subject; she didn’t like it at all. Everything about Ostagar and the Blight still gave her the shivers. ‘Tell me about your life,’ she said and was surprised to see the sudden change in his demeanour. Had he shown sincere interest in her story before, now his features closed with disturbing swiftness.

‘There is nothing to tell,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘I was just a slave.’

_Just a slave._

That sounded – awful.

‘But you managed to escape,’ Hawke persevered, trying to get more information out of him because it indeed fascinated her. ‘How did you manage that?’

He shook his shoulders. ‘I did, isn’t that enough?’ His face closed some more. Alright, other topic. Again.

‘I can’t but wonder why that Magister goes through so much trouble to catch one escaped slave. Is it because of those markings?’ she asked, looking at the intriguing pattern on his arms and throat, wondering if they meandered across his whole body.

‘It is,’ Fenris answered curtly.

‘Why did he etch those into your skin?’

Fenris almost flinched and she immediately regretted asking. It was clearly disturbing him and that was the last thing she wanted. She realized that having a conversation with Fenris wasn’t a simple feat. Perhaps she should try to discuss the weather.

‘The markings are indeed the reason why he is still chasing me,’ he said to her surprise. ‘They are made of lyrium, therefore they gave him power,’ he added reluctantly.

She knew about the power of lyrium but couldn’t understand how someone was able to draw that power out of those delicate lines. Undoubtedly it had something to do with blood magic. Typical Tevinter. She hated blood magic and decided not to press on.

‘If there is anything Magisters and mages crave for, it is power,’ he however grimly continued. ‘And they will use any means to get it.’

Now it was her turn to flinch but she kept it hidden. He didn’t know anything about her magic and she didn’t know anything about being a slave. She tried to imagine how it would feel to be possessed by someone, to be nothing more than an ownership, but she failed gloriously. And apparently he had fallen prey to someone who had used blood magic on him. Marked him with his power. With lyrium. Her train of thoughts got interrupted by his voice. It seemed like his previous reluctance got overpowered by his anger.

‘Danarius called me his pet, his little wolf. He held me on a leach, just to mock me. Or to be more precisely, to mock the Qunari who keep their mages leached. I suppose I must be grateful he didn’t have my mouth sowed shut.’ Fenris sounded restrained as if he uttered these words with confined fury.

Hawke cringed; how in the Maker’s name could anybody treat someone in such a way? The Magisters of Tevinter were obviously even more deformed and evil than she already had been aware of. She got a sneaking suspicion he hated magic out of the bottom of his heart and in a way she could understand his loath. But although she was willing to see his point, on the other hand it disturbed her greatly. What would happen if he found out about her magic? How would he react? How could she ever be able to explain to him that most mages outside of the Imperium weren’t like this Danarius of his? And why the hell did she bother anyway?

Fenris had stopped talking and she didn’t know what to say to fill the silence. She was grateful at the sight of Varric coming out of the Rose with a – of course – fuming Carver in tow.

‘This better be good sister,’ he growled. ‘I was having a very good time.’

‘I don’t doubt that,’ she said coldly. ‘But now you can put your _other_ talents at use. We are going to fight a Tevinter Magister.’

-

The mansion they entered was gloomy and eerie and in complete disarray. Hawke could hardly believe that someone had lived here recently. If so, they had made a total mess of it and that didn’t fit with the lifestyle of a Magister. They stumbled upon broken tiles, smashed windows, shattered furniture and even some skeletons. And a lot of dust and cobwebs. It looked as if the place had been abandoned a long time ago after some big fight. And very soon they found out it was also infested by shades and demons. They turned up in every room and around every corner. It felt like yet another trap, but they had no other choice than to go on fighting them.

Hawke felt the reassuring presence of Varric and his faithful crossbow at her back, and the broadsword of her brother at her side. In spite of their endless bickering they fought together in a fluent motion; they had been training together from the moment Carver had been able to hold a weapon and it paid out. While she was dashing and darting through the rooms, always in time ducking under her brother’s sword and luring the enemies towards him by short pinpricks or deftly manoeuvres, or finishing off shades he pushed in her direction, she was able to see Fenris fight. He moved as if his weapon weighted nothing, arching and curving it through opponents with an ease like he was wielding a dagger. His charges were flowing and elegant and full of confidence, he shifted like a very skilled and deadly dancer. And all the time he was surrounded by a bluish light, cast by his markings. She could not help but admire him greatly. They managed to perform as a wonderful foursome, clearing out room after room, hacking through every adversary and killing them in their ongoing battle.

And then everything went wrong.

Suddenly, on the landing of the second floor, an arcane horror appeared out of nothing, and a very powerful one at that. Hawke tried to shout out a warning, but she was already too late. A wave of strong magic smashed them all to the floor or against a wall. She ended up against a doorpost and she lost her daggers in the collision. She made an attempt at jumping up, but was once more crushed by a new wave of black magic. She found herself on all fours, fighting for breath. She managed to look around and saw that her companions were in hardly better shape. Varric was completely knocked out and her brother lay flat on his back, vainly trying to get up. Only Fenris was still standing, but he was staggering heavily, evidently not able to lift his sword, let alone wield it.

She struggled onto her knees. She had to do something and she knew damn well what, although she hated it. She had no choice or they would all perish here. She closed her eyes and tapped into the Fade, as her father had taught her. She felt the power enter her body and she concentrated on the spell she was about to release. She opened her eyes and focused on the arcane horror in front of her. The spectre was about to send a third wave to finish them off, but Marian acted faster. With all the force she could assemble, she launched a powerful bolt of ice, immediately followed by a fireball. The horror in front of her screamed when it first got frozen and after that burned like a torch and not moments later dissolved, leaving nothing but a wisp of steam. Hawke collapsed but not before she saw the expression on Fenris’s face: full of shocked abhorrence. She desperately tried to get up, and for once she was grateful for her brother’s assistance. He had hurried to her side after he had finally got on his feet again and helped her to stand.

‘Varric,’ she croaked.

‘Safe and sound Hawke,’ the dwarf reassured her. ‘A good thing you dealt with that – thing as you did. Gave me the creeps.’

Despite everything she had to smile. Varric knew about her magic but couldn’t care less. No judgment there. Well, he was a dwarf after all and dwarfs didn’t mind much about magic. ‘And Bianca?’

‘Got a scratch I’m afraid, but nothing a good polish can’t remedy. Let’s get out of this awful place.’

She didn’t dare to look at Fenris, in fact she was more or less surprised he was still here. _Oh well, let the accusations commence and let’s get it over with_.

‘Apparently Danarius has escaped,’ he said with a voice so neutral it almost hurt. ‘Or perhaps he hasn’t even been here.’ He paused for a moment and added, ‘I need some air.’

And with that he fled down the stairs. For some reason or another he didn’t seem as affected by the assault of the arcane horror as they were. Maybe it was because of his markings. Lyrium intended to parry magic attacks.

‘Bugger seems not very happy,’ Varric mumbled.

‘No. And I can think of a few reasons why,’ Marian said dourly. She took a deep breath and then followed the elf, bracing herself against his reaction.

-

They found him leaning against the outer wall of the mansion. Or rather lounging against the wall; Hawke couldn’t find another word to describe the graceful way he exposed himself, especially because he was no doubt not aware of it. He stood straight the moment he saw their little bunch appear through the front door. He particularly turned his gaze to her. She had dreaded this since the moment she had seen the expression on his face after she’d been forced to use her – other ability. His hate for magic had been palpable.

‘You’re a mage,’ he said in an accusing if not disgusted tone, as was expected.

‘Thank you for enlightening me,’ she retorted dryly. ‘I would never have guessed myself. I would forever been wondering where that strange tingling feeling in my fingers comes from, that I feel now and again. I’m so grateful you’ve explained it.’

He was visibly not amused. ‘Why are you wearing leather armour like a rogue? Why using knives? Why are you in disguise?’ He shot his questions with a barely restrained resentment that wove a hoarse edge through his rough velvet voice and made his eyes flare.

Her eyes flared in response. ‘Well, excuse me for not running around Kirkwall dressed in robes and waving a staff,’ she said tartly. ‘That kind of behaviour will undoubtedly get me a one-way ticket to the Gallows and that, surprisingly as it may seem, is not an option I warm towards.’

They stood staring at each other with a hostile undertone, until Carver stepped in to add more hostility. ‘Don’t you even think of threatening my sister,’ he said, challenging.

With quite an effort she suppressed an irritated smirk. Proud Carver, to defend her like a knight in shining armour. She didn’t need it, and, to be honest, appreciated his attempt for stepping up for her much neither. She suspected that he just wanted to speak up, to be the great defender, to be that knight in shining armour. Not for her, just for himself. He could only make things worse with that uncontrolled blathering big mouth of his.

Fenris blinked. ‘Don’t worry, ‘ he said flatly.

And when she turned her gaze back to him, she caught a glimpse of a hunted, haunted look that almost swept her off her feet. She composed herself straight away. She would not let herself be taken away by a pair of eyes, how astonishing beautiful or touching anguished they might look. She would not allow herself to feel like a smitten young girl again. The next moment the glance was gone and he looked as blank as a Tranquil; not even a trace of anger was left.

‘It is not my intent to sound ungrateful,’ he said, again with that voice like molten dark sugar, rough velvet, a night of hot – _stop that right now you blithering fool, this is not the time nor the place, let alone the occasion_ \- ‘I have not the best ... experiences with mages.’

Well, she knew that very clearly by now.

He suddenly turned to her with hardly masked hate, which startled her. She almost staggered under his abrupt fierce glower.

‘What is your goal?’

Her first reaction was to slap him in the face but she managed to calm herself. She would not be persuaded into losing her temper, despite everything that had happened, and she forced herself to hold back. It wasn’t easy but she was able to keep her self-control, as she had always done at the times she had been confronted with Templars. _Except for that one time but that had hardly been her fault, had it ... damn it, not now_ ... She willed the memory away. Instead of bursting into fury, she just raised her brow and stiffened her shoulders to make clear that she was angry and ready to oppose him. In short, he had ruffled her feathers. What kind of ridiculous question was this anyway?

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘What kind of mage are you? What do you want to accomplish with your magic?’ he said with an impatient gesture. He sounded like outright disgust and she reacted to that emotion although she didn’t want to. But her but just pushed away memories made her react more harshly than she intended.

‘I could tell you it’s none of your bloody business, but right now I’m just trying to survive and look after my family.’ ‘And succeeding tremendously,’ she heard Carver murmur, but chose to ignore it. One angry man to cope with was enough for this moment. ‘I suppose that must sound very dangerous,’ she added sardonically.

Fenris shot her a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement. ‘You’re not Danarius, that is the best I can say for now,’ he said.

‘He has fled or at least disappeared, if he has been here at all.’ Gratefully Marian changed the subject before she would burst into a livid rant despite her determined resolution. ‘Do you think he will come back for you?’

‘I don’t doubt it. The markings he carved into my skin are priceless. I’m too valuable to let go just like that. He would rather flay me then let me walk free.’

For a moment Hawke looked him up and down and simply couldn’t help herself. To her own dread she heard her voice blurt out, ‘That would be a waste of a perfectly handsome elf.’ She heard Carver hiss and Varric snigger and groaned inwardly. She wouldn’t hear the end of it. To her amazement Fenris chuckled and she was almost certain he blushed. The moment passed too quickly.

‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful, you did help me after all. Let me at least pay you for your efforts, you were promised profit,’ he said, again with that straight composure.

But she immediately raised her hands, refusing the pouch he retrieved from one of the leather pockets attached to his waist-belt. ‘No, we didn’t find that Magister of yours, save your money for the day we have.’

‘Er, Hawke,’ Varric started to protest somewhere behind her back.

‘I insist you take it. If you don’t, I will simply throw it at your feet,’ Fenris said heatedly and that flash of anger suddenly reappeared. And she knew damn well why, she could almost taste it and even more read it in his appalled look. She would not accept that.

‘Why? Because you cannot stand the thought of owing a debt to a mage?’ A short flare of his lyrium tattoos proved she had hit the right spot. ‘Like I said, we couldn’t catch Danarius, you don’t owe us anything.’

‘Yes he does,’ Varric insisted. ‘A whole damn night of useless battling. Think of what I could have been doing, instead of fighting off hunters, bloody shades, demons and what not. Think of the renowned ale I could have been drinking, the games of wicked –‘

‘Shut up,’ Hawke cut him short, giving him an irritated look over her shoulder. She turned back to the elf. ‘But if you can’t live with the nagging idea of owing me a debt, a mage of all gruesome creatures no less, I will hire you.’ Fenris raised his brow in disbelief. ‘We are planning a, er, quite expensive,’ another mean look at the dwarf, ‘and dangerous expedition and I could use a marvellous sword arm like yours. Well?’ She cocked her head, waiting for his reaction.

For some reason Fenris was certain that “no” was not an option. And frankly, he was too flabbergasted to refuse. ‘I don’t appear to have much choice.’ He sounded fractious but Hawke was certain she heard a flicker of interest in his husky voice. ‘You can find me here when you need me. With Danarius gone, I don’t see a point in taking his mansion as my base.’

‘And right you are, spoken as a true warrior. If you don’t mind, I will take my leave now before I make a complete fool of myself. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.’

And with that she stomped off, with two bristling men in tow, leaving an utterly bewildered elf behind.

-

‘What the hell were you thinking,’ Carver snarled while they were descending the long flight of steps that led from Hightown to Lowtown.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Hawke innocently, though she knew damn well what he meant.

‘That bloody elf hates mages, he behaves like a complete jackass after we risked our hide for him in that demon infested mansion, and you start _flirting_ with him!’ her brother spat.

‘You’re overreacting as always. I can imagine someone is not very fond of mages after being enslaved and abused by them for a lifetime. He did apologize for his words, didn’t he? Well, sort of. And besides that, what is wrong with a little flirting?’ She raised her voice. She knew she had this coming but she was absolutely not in the mood for a row with her brother, let alone she would let him reprimand her.

‘A _little_ flirting? You were practically all over him! You damn well behaved like a brothel wench!’ Carver yelled.

‘Yes, you would know everything about their behaviour!’ Hawke heatedly shouted back. ‘You have enough opportunity to study them during your escapades in the Blooming Rose. I bet you have already earned a gold membership, you bloody hypocrite!’

‘Hey now,’ Varric interfered. ‘Why don’t you both slow it down and act like real siblings.’

‘We _are_ acting like real siblings, just like you and your sweet brother Bartrand,’ Hawke sneered.

‘Alright, you have a point there. But try at least to keep your voices down. I don’t feel like having a scramble with one of the Lowtown thug gangs this night. And by the way, Carver, I must agree with your sister; there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting. Especially when you’ve just discovered that you have fallen in love.’

‘What?!’ squealed Hawke in horror. This went even worse than she had feared beforehand.

‘I already have the title,’ Varric continued mercilessly. He spread his arms like an actor and started in a reciting tone, ‘The Love Story of the Beautiful Mercenary Refugee and the Perfectly Handsome Renegade Elf. A bit long maybe, I should work on that, but it covers the intention.’

‘You are disgusting,’ Hawke screamed and she ran off.

‘I’m sure my readers will think differently,’ bellowed Varric after her, forgetting his own warning.

‘You can eat shit and die,’ she yelled back at him before she disappeared around a corner.

Varric shook his head. ‘No appreciation for art,’ he sighed. Carver sniggered and the dwarf turned to him. ‘What about it, Junior, care for a drink before you have to face her wrath?’

‘Sounds appealing,’ Carver agreed and he followed him to the Hanged Man.

-

Fenris leant back against the front door he just had jammed shut. What had happened out there? Had he been hired to act like some kind of mercenary at the whim of a mage? Had he really agreed? What the fuck had got into him?! Damn damn and another damn. No sooner had he freed himself from his shackles, or his life was already bonded with again a mage. He let out a frustrated shout and thumped with all his force against the innocent wood of the door. His gauntleted hand left a significant dent. He groaned. _You idiot. You utter, stupid, blighted idiot. Bloody hell_. He let out a deep sigh. No use worrying about it now. In the morning he would search her out and tell her that the deal was off. She was the one who hadn’t want to accept his money, not his fault, not his problem. Simple as that.

Feeling a little better at that thought, he pushed back from the tormented door and started to roam thoughtlessly through the mansion he had claimed as his own. Well, not exactly as his own, but the idea that he would live in the place Danarius had fled, gave him some satisfaction after all the frustrations of the past night. He still didn’t know if his – former master, tormenter, really had been here. He sincerely hoped so because in that case he had fled because of him and that gave him a feeling of contentment. That would mean he was afraid of him, or at least wasn’t strong enough to fight him at this moment. He felt very pleased with that. At that very moment the vision of her came swimming back into his mind. He wouldn’t have been able to do it without her support. Danarius, or at least his slaver commander, had been afraid of their combined forces. On his own he would have been an easy target. Damn again.

He found himself in the wine cellar. Apparently he had discovered a candle somewhere and had been able to light it, when the thought hit his mind. Blast. Blasted woman. Blasted mage. He hissed and almost dropped the candle. Then his eyes fell upon the label on a crate with bottles that looked very familiar. Aggrigio Parvali. Ugh. This was a wine he knew well. A noble wine, only served when the most powerful of the Magisters were present at Danarius’s fabled parties. He had never been allowed to drink it, of course, he had only poured it to the guests, wondering what it would taste like. And now he had the opportunity to find out. He was almost afraid to take one of the bottles in his hand, as if it would burn him. He did nevertheless and when it proved out that it didn’t do any harm, he took two of the bottles upstairs. He returned to the large room on the second floor, the room with the double bed, the big hearth and the full-sized table. From starters he had decided this would be his room. It suited him. He opened one bottle and took a deep swill. He almost choked. He wasn’t used to wine, let alone of this quality. But after he was done coughing he took another quaff and decided it tasted good. After emptying the bottle he felt very pleased with himself and he was ready to try the comfort of the double bed, after having been forced to sleep on the hard floor for as long as he knew.

The satisfied grin got soon swept off his face.

It wasn’t due to the comfort he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t due to the exquisite wine that had up till now never had been into his grasp. It wasn’t even due to the tormenting memories that had been haunting him since his escape.

No.

It was all due to the woman he had met the last evening. The woman who had fought by his side. The woman who to his repulsion had used magic when that cursed arcane horror had turned up. The woman who without any question had run to his rescue. That golden haired, sapphire eyed apparition had saved him. He had caught the astounding colour of her shining eyes when they had lit up in the sparse torchlight. And at that same moment had took his breath away. But that was before he knew she was a mage. He swore again, this time in Tevene and from the bottom of his heart. _Venhedis! Fasta vass_!

He had tried to find solace in that luxury double bed, but he had failed to find any ease at all. After not as much as half an hour, he had left the soft embrace of the comfortable mattress and feather pillows to wander around his new shelter. The rest of the night he had been pacing through the rooms, thinking of her and cursing her. Came morning he was exhausted and still not able to sleep. He slumped into one of the chairs and found a few moments of rest, until his tormented mind jerked him back into the world of the present time.

He descended to the large space on the ground floor to practise his battle moves, and finally found some relief in wielding his sword at imaginary enemies.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter, the strict following of the story of Dragon Age II will come to a halt and I'll start to add a lot of my own fantasy. Mind you, it will take a while before the real roadtrip begins, but a lot will happen before that.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 3

-

Hawke hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night. That stupid arcane horror kept popping up in her memory. That awful moment she had been forced to show her magic. She couldn’t sweep Fenris’s aghast expression out of her mind. She hated him for his reaction, she hated herself for her – ha – gift. Maker, she wished now more than ever that she was born without magic, that she truly was a rogue. Then he wouldn’t have looked at her in that appalled way. She threw herself on her other side. Why was she so upset about him? Why would she care how he looked at her, what he thought of her? If he wasn’t willing to see past her magic, could only see her as a mage and not as a human being, with lots of talents besides merging with nasty demons and performing blood rituals, he could fuck off as far as she was concerned. She screwed her eyes shut and images of his perfect slender, supple frame entered uninvited her brain. The way he moved, the way he fought, so limber and elegant. The way he had looked at her when ... She groaned.

In the wee hours of the night, she heard her brother enter and slump heavily down on the narrow cot next to hers. Drunk as ever, she decided. Perhaps even as never before. She reminded herself to thank Varric for it; at least he had kept him from harassing her. On the other hand, the dwarf had been quite infuriating. Perhaps she should cuff him for that. After thanking him.

‘Stop that,’ Carver grumbled out of the sudden.

She started. ‘Stop what?’

‘That endlessly tossing and turning. It’s driving me crazy.’

So, not drunk enough to end up in alcoholic bliss. Only cuffing then. ‘What, it’s making you dizzy?’ she said wickedly.

‘It’s making me sick,’ he growled. ‘Especially because I know why you are doing it. Let me die in peace.’

She cursed under her breath. After another sleepless hour she chose to leave her bed and the hovel altogether. She dressed, put on her armour, armed herself and wandered through Lowtown in the pale light of a new day. After some contemplation she decided to pay a visit to the bathhouse, and allowed herself the luxury to relax in hot water drenched with rosemary scented oil. After that she went to the Hanged Man for breakfast. She was surprised to see Varric sitting at the table in the back of the taproom.

‘You are up early,’ she said while she joined him.

‘Who says I have been sleeping at all,’ the dwarf replied, smiling. ‘You are the one who is already on her feet at this impossible hour.’

Hawke nodded at the waitress and ordered bread and cheese and a mug of coffee. She didn’t trust the stew, and although the bread would undoubtedly be stale and the cheese running, at least she would be able to recognise their origins. And the coffee would be surprisingly good. She loved the coffee at the Hanged Man. Hot and strong as it should be.

‘I suppose it has everything to do with our broody elf?’ The dwarf hauled her out of her musings.

Hawke bristled. ‘Just shut up. I decided not long ago that you deserve a whack around your dwarven ears,’ she threatened.

Varric grinned and took a swallow of his morning ale. He disliked coffee and hated tea. Or better, he distrusted both beverages, stating they were bad for his health. ‘You cannot deny he made at least some kind of impression on you,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been working on my unexpected new story the whole night and I intend to make an epic romantic novel out of it.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Hawke hissed, intimidating him with her steaming mug, but Varric wasn’t impressed at all.

‘At least I hope that your brother left you in peace,’ he said, finishing a sentence, blowing on the ink to dry it and closing his book. He laid down his quill.

‘As a matter of fact he didn’t. He wasn’t drunk enough not to harass me. You should have kept him in here for a spell longer.’

‘He was already keeling over, Hawke. One more nip of whisky and he would have passed out,’ Varric chuckled.

‘Would have suited me well,’ Hawke murmured in her mug before taking a sip of the strong black liquid. Absent-mindedly she chewed and swallowed her breakfast while Varric once again picked up his quill and dipped it into the inkwell, sitting next to his tankard of ale. He opened his notebook to scribble a few more lines. At this early hour the tavern was calm and peaceful. The only sounds came from the crackling fire in the giant fire-place, the soft scribbling of Varric’s quill and the faint humming of the barman who was cleaning the crockery.

‘You know the elf is more or less your responsibility,’ the dwarf suddenly broke the silence. He made Hawke startle and almost choke on a bite of stale bread. He looked at her intensely, patiently waiting until she was done coughing.

‘What do you mean?’ She wiped away the crumbs on the table.

‘You recruited him.’

‘So what? You disagree with that?’

‘No, I don’t; like you pointed out before, he is a wonderful sword arm. But it seems your brother has – issues with him. Last night he kept on rambling how the elf insulted you ... yeah, yeah I know.’ The dwarf lifted his hand when he saw the sarcastic look on her face. ‘He is more likely jealous of his battle skills. The little Hawke-cock doesn’t like another capable male around. But whatever the case, he won’t be enthralled if you take him with us on the expedition. It could lead to trouble and we will have enough of that in the Deep Roads.’

‘Carver has issues with everyone,’ Hawke huffed. ‘I am not certain if I want him to come to the Deep Roads at all.’

Varric whistled through his teeth and put his book and quill aside. ‘He won’t be happy.’

‘That’s his usual state of mind. He hates taking orders, he hates it to “live in my shadow” as he puts it ever so often. He is a very good battle partner when he puts his mind to it but otherwise I can’t rely on him, and that could turn out to be life threatening dangerous down there.’

Varric put his fingertips together and looked across them with a thoughtful frown. ‘Are you sure about this? Carver will hate you for it.’

Marian sneered derisively. ‘He hates me anyhow, what difference does it make? Did I already mention that he loves to hate?’

With a smirk Varric grabbed his tankard of ale. ‘I’m glad I won’t be the one breaking the news to him. But if you need assistance from Bianca, just let me know. She’s always willing to defend you.’

Hawke laughed out loud and ordered another coffee, pushing the drained mug aside. ‘I feel completely safe now,’ she chuckled. ‘With Bianca around, nothing can go wrong.’ And then she became serious again. ‘I should probably go to Fenris to talk to him. He doesn’t even know what the expedition is about I hired him for.’

‘And what expedition might that be, I wonder,’ Varric said with a devious grin. He ducked just in time to avoid the empty mug she tossed at him.

-

Slightly nervous Hawke went to Fenris’s mansion. She had no idea in what kind of mood she would find him after their last night tussle. So she thought it wise to bring some kind of peace offering with her. Standing at his door, she hesitated what to do. She could knock but for some reason she didn’t think he would respond to knocking. Best just to go in and make her appearance clear in another way. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

‘Fenris, are you there?’ she cried out the moment she entered the premises. There was no answer, and for a short moment she was afraid that the next minute she’d feel a sword between her ribs, or his hand crushing her heart or another organ of his choice. But there came no sound or sudden deadly movement, so she crawled up the stairs, anxious what she might find.

‘Fenris?’ she called out again. She found him in the main room, completely exhausted slumped in one of the chairs surrounding the large table. She was in fact convinced she dragged him out of his sleep. He jumped up at her entrance, his eyes full of fear, with dark shadows under them. He immediately raised his sword that not a moment before had rested against the table. She was impressed by his fast reaction and at the same time wondered in what kind of permanent tension his inner state must be, to go from sleep to a fighting stance in one fluent motion. It worried her deeply.

‘I’m sorry I startled you,’ she said apologetically. ‘But I come with good intensions.’ She held up the basket she was carrying with her. ‘A welcome-in-the-neighbourhood present,’ she said with a strained smile.

For a moment he stared at her as if she was a ghost but then seemed to recognise her. At any case he decided not to attack her. ‘I doubt my neighbours appreciate my presence here,’ he replied, sagging back in his chair, still with his sword in his hand. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well, they do,’ Hawke beamed, avoiding his question. ’Hence the present.’ To her great surprise he suddenly laughed. It lasted only a heartbeat but the sound was warm and sonorous and made her wobbly. She put the basket on the table, leaning gratefully against the wood. ‘Cheese, smoked ham and fresh baked bread,’ she managed. ‘And a bottle of wine, although I see I shouldn’t have bothered with that,’ she said, noticing the empty bottles.

He finally put his sword back against the table.

‘No. The wine cellar is well stocked,’ he said. ‘I am rather touched by your concern for my wellbeing,’ he added, somewhat sarcastically. ‘But I don’t think that’s the reason why you are here.’

Hawke smiled wanly. ‘That’s true, although I really wanted to bring you some breakfast. Wine you can keep well for years before it starts wandering around your house on its own account, or changes into something completely different, unlike food. I assumed there wouldn’t be anything edible in the pantry. And starving yourself to death after surviving all those slavers trying to kill you, seemed so – pathetic.’ She dared a glance in his direction and got paid with a crooked smile. Only now she realized he had forgone his armour and was just clad in his leather pants and a loose linen sleeveless shirt. He looked staggering, even with the shadows under his eyes.

_Well, hitherto all is going well. I made him smile, even laugh. I’m looking at the most handsome man I ever met in my life, I haven’t fainted yet and he hasn’t made an effort to run me through with either his weapon or hand. Things are looking up_.

‘Again, I am touched,’ he said. ‘And I will contemplate all your good thoughts after you have confessed why you are really here.’

Hawke sighed. ‘I have not been completely honest with you.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ he retorted.

She choose to ignore that jab. She dragged a hand through her hair and rested it on the surface of the table. ‘Honest is perhaps the wrong word. Not entirely clear maybe. Then again, we had already so much to discuss last night.’ She offered him a little smile but he did not reciprocate. He just watched her impassionedly. She bit her lip. ‘The expedition I told you about, will lead us into the Deep Roads. The most dangerous place in, or rather under Thedas. I should have told you before I asked for your assistance. I can understand if you want to refuse.’

He stared at her, obviously not understanding.

‘You hired me. I agreed. Deep Roads or no, I have no choice.’

Now it was her turn to look taken aback. ‘Of course you have a choice. I will never ask you to risk your life for me if you don’t want to.’

He rose from his chair, folded his arms and cocked his head, taking a defensive and at the same time hostile stance. The sunlight that fell through the grubby windows caressed his silvery hair, giving him a godlike aura. It took all of her effort to keep her mind together.

‘What trick do you have upon your sleeve?’ he demanded.

She looked lost. ‘I don’t know what you mean ...’

‘Of course you do. There is a catch, there always is. Especially with mages.’ His eyes were full of accusation, if not fuming with rage. He remembered his intent to tell her the deal was off as soon as he would see her, and here he was, reaffirming his promise to assist her on her ludicrous expedition. It didn’t matter it would lead him into the Deep Roads; it could take him to the moon and back as far as he was concerned. What _did_ matter was that he was again caught in her web and he was furious with both her and himself. He wanted to take her basket of so-called good intensions and throw it at her head, before kicking her out of his house and life entirely. The fingers of his right hand twitched and clamped around the muscles of his left arm. He couldn’t define what was holding him back. Perhaps it was her demeanour, how she subtly straightened her shoulders, the way she lifted her head just a little. Not out of arrogance, he knew mages’ arrogance when he saw it, but out of determination, with a hint of stubbornness, accentuated by the sudden glint in her sapphire eyes. Despite himself he was intrigued.

She started to get angry. She would be damned if she’d let herself be intimidated by him and his wretched opinion of mages, comprehensible or not. But then it dawned upon her. ‘Alright, I think I understand,’ she began cautiously. ‘You have been a slave for a very long time, not used to freedom, never been permitted to take your own decisions –’ But he didn’t let her finish.

‘Don’t you think you know anything about me,’ he growled menacing, taking a threatening step forward while unfolding his arms and clenching his hands into fists. ‘Don’t you even try to make me believe that you do, and never _ever_ pretend you understand anything about me or my life.’ His markings flared disturbingly.

Hawke tried to stay calm to not incite him even more. _Be careful, things may have been looking up, but they can crash to smithereens very fast now_.

She made another attempt. ‘Okay, you are right, I don’t know anything about your feelings or history and I don’t claim that I do. You could remedy that by the way, er, never mind. Please calm down and put the illumination out, it’s quite unnerving. I’m just trying to explain that you don’t have to obey me. You don't have to obey anyone anymore. You are your own man now, fit to take your own decisions. And if you decide not to accompany me into the Deep Roads, that’s alright with me. As it should be alright with you.’ She gave him a brittle smile. ‘So, what about some breakfast and perhaps a glass of wine as a toast on – neutrality or a truce or world peace,’ she ended lamely. ‘Sorry, I got somewhat carried away I’m afraid.’ At first she feared that her rambling hadn’t helped the situation much, but to her relief she saw his markings extinguish.

Fenris stared at her, trying to fathom her intentions. He had to admit he saw nothing but frankness and honesty in her bright blue eyes, and he felt his anger seep away. For a moment he wondered if she was using magic on him, but at the same time dismissed the thought as too paranoid, even for him. He shook his head.

‘I suppose neutrality will do,’ he said, relaxing a little. ‘But I have not discovered any glasses yet so you will have to drink straight from the bottle.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ she smiled sweetly. He didn’t return her smile but at least he didn’t look as if he wanted to disembowel her either.

‘Well, if you insist on me making my own decisions, then I tell you here and now that I don’t know if I agree to come with you,’ he said whilst opening the bottle she had brought with her. He didn’t trust her, he didn’t trust her at all, but for the moment he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, so he permitted her to stay.

Hawke had taken a seat in the chair in front of his and looked around. She noticed that he at any rate had started a fire in the big hearth.

‘I could have asked for your help in a more friendly way,’ she grimaced, thinking back at the uncomfortable and embarrassing situation of the night before. ‘I believe I rather pushed you.’

‘That is one way to put it,’ he said while he handed her the now opened bottle. ‘Why do you want to go into the Deep Roads anyway? For riches and glory?’

Hawke took a sip without tasting much. ‘Would you believe me when I told you that I’m just doing it to please Varric?’

‘At this point I don’t believe anything,’ Fenris retorted, retaking the bottle she offered him on her turn. Hawke made a face; for a moment he thought she would stick out her tongue but she didn’t.

‘Frankly, I only want to buy my mother’s old family estate back. My dear uncle has lost it over a game of dice or cards or wallop, whatever that may be, and she’s been wailing about it since she found out. I hope that if I can push her over the threshold of her old pride and glory, she will stop complaining.’ She looked at his face that completely blank stared back. ‘You don’t believe this one either, do you? It is the truth, honest.’

Fenris put the bottle on the table and sat down once more. He leant into the back of his chair and studied her out of the corner of his eye. He was inclined to believe this reason; it was a too odd one not to.

‘You don’t want to go back to Ferelden?’ he asked.

Hawke shrugged. He noticed she was fidgeting with a plain silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand, the only jewellery she wore.

‘It used to be my home,’ she admitted. ‘And I miss it. Although the village we lived in is destroyed. Perhaps one day I will return. What about you?’

And again he wasn’t willing to give her much information and was avoiding her eyes.

After emptying two bottles of wine she went back to Lowtown. They had been talking about living in Kirkwall, her year as a mercenary and her companions. She had asked him to come to the Hanged Man but he hadn’t promised anything. This “Make Your Own Decisions” item could prove to become quite a problem.

-

The moment she stepped into her uncle’s hovel, she got berated by her mother.

‘Marian Hawke! Finally there you are! Where in the Maker’s name have you been all day?!’

‘Visiting an acquaintance. What is it to you?’ She felt a bit woozy. Perhaps drinking a bottle of wine after a night without sleep hadn’t been a brilliant idea, even with such delightful company. True, Fenris hadn’t been very talkative; thinking about it she had been the one doing most of the talking but at least she had had some wonderful elf to behold while doing so. Just the thought of the rippling of his naked biceps when he shifted in his chair or lifted the bottle of wine made her quiver. Let alone ...

‘Have you been listening to anything I’ve been telling you?’ Her mother’s voice cut like a rusty saw through her contemplations. No, she hadn’t. ‘I’m sorry, Mother, I’m sure everything will turn out for the best,’ she tried a platitude that usually calmed Leandra down. Not this time however.

‘Young lady! I really do wish you would pay attention! As I was saying, there was someone at the door this morning, making inquiries. And since I was the only one at home at that moment, I had to answer this – person. If he would have had bad intentions, I –‘

‘Inquiries? What kind of inquiries?’ Hawke became suddenly alert. If someone wanted to contact her, they usually left a message at the Hanged Man. Except Fenris, he liked detours and diversions. This sounded strange.

‘He wanted to know who lived here and for how long.’

That was even stranger. ‘Did you answer him?’

Her mother bristled. ‘Of course not! I told him to be on his way, and shut the door in his face.’

‘What did he look like? I don’t suppose he told you his name?’

‘No he did not. And he looked like any other low-life you like to hang out with these days.’

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. This was all very informative. Probably a messenger after all, perhaps from the Red Iron mercenaries. Her mother always made such a fuss about nothing. The little incident dissolved in the residue of the wine on the way to the Hanged Man. She spent a pleasant evening playing wicked grace with Varric and Isabela and forgot everything about the inquiring - person.

-

Hawke woke up with a start, at first not knowing why, drowsily as she was from wine shared with a certain elf and mugs of ale with a dwarf and a pirate queen. Then she realized her marbari Alrond was barking like mad and immediately she was wide awake. Within a moment she was out of her bed, with her daggers, she always kept under her pillow, in her hands. She jumped through the bedroom door into the space that was used for cooking and more or less living in. The war hound was jumping against the front door, almost crushing the rickety wood, all the while barking franticly. She jerked the door open and the dog flashed through it. She followed, and almost got overtaken by her brother. She noticed he wielded his broadsword. Perhaps not the most practical weapon in this case, but probably the one nearest to grasp.

It was impossible to see much in the dusk outside the hovel, but apparently Alrond had found someone or something to pursue and he had darted off. Both sister and brother followed him, going after the sound he made, trying to find their footing in the dark without tripping over all the rubbish lingering around.

‘You’re in your smallclothes,’ Carver managed to grumble.

‘It’s called a nightshift and you are half naked,’ she shot back.

‘I’m a man.’

‘Good for you.’

Alrond turned from barking into growling, not a good sign. Not a moment later they stumbled upon him, stooped over a still body. Hawke knelt beside it, at the same time trying to calm down the marbari.

‘Shush Alrond, it’s alright, let’s not try to attract more attention, shall we.’

The hound immediately got quiet and squatted next to her. In the eerie red light from the foundries that lay not far away and the one cast by a sputtering torch, it was clear the body was indeed a – body. A very dead one at that. And although Hawke couldn’t be entirely sure in the gloom, it didn’t look like Alrond was the killer. For starters there wasn’t enough blood. There was no blood at all.

‘Who the hell is he?’ Carver said, kneeling beside her.

‘How should I know? Let’s try to get him back home, we can make more light there. You watch him there while I alert the city guard.’ She more felt than saw the defiant expression on her brother’s face. ‘Or the other way around if you are willing to draw Aveline out of her sleep.’ The red haired former Fereldan officer had climbed to the rank of captain and she was a stern one. And notorious of her temper when her night rest got disturbed.

‘Alright, you sprint to the keep,’ Carver snapped, as was expected.

But first they carried the body, which was less heavy than they had feared, to their uncle’s hovel. Leandra and Gamlen were awake, the latter wearing his ridiculous nightcap that made him look like an overgrown leprechaun. Their mother had already lighted a few candles and was demanding an explanation.

‘What kind of ruckus was that? What are you two up to this time?’ Leandra wished to know, but got no answer.

And as always Gamlen was complaining. ‘Is that a stiff? I don’t want a stiff in my house.’

Hawke dropped her half of the burden on the floor. ‘House? That’s an euphemism if I ever heard one,’ she sneered.

Gamlen bridled indignantly but she paid no further attention to her uncle. Especially not after Carver called out the deceased happened to be a woman. She wore dark plain leather armour, with no significant symbol. There was no letter upon her body, no seal or token in the pouch at her waist, nothing to indentify her by. Marian and Carver looked at each other, for once not willing to quarrel. They were completely puzzled why someone apparently had tried to break in with some kind of mysterious reason, had failed at it because Hawke’s marbari had been alert and then had died just like that.

Then Hawke discovered some greenish foam around the dead woman’s mouth. ‘Poison I think,’ she said. ‘Self inflicted. Too afraid to be caught, but why? What can be so damned important that someone rather dies than tell why she wanted to sneak into a place?’

Carver shrugged and Hawke turned to her mother. ‘I don’t imagine this was the one who came to the door yesterday?’

‘As I told you before, that was a man and hardly as well armoured as this poor woman.’

‘I’m off to bed,’ Gamlen announced. ‘And keep that dog quiet the next time.’

Marian rolled her eyes. ‘If it hadn’t been for him, we could well all be dead by now,’ she snapped.

‘Whatever,’ Gamlen grumbled and disappeared to the attic.

‘You’d better go back to sleep also, Mother,’ Hawke said, suddenly feeling very tired. This promised going to be a long night.

‘Do you actually think I can sleep with a dead woman under my roof?’ Leandra exclaimed in a shrill tone.

‘While you wake Aveline, I get Varric?’ Carver suggested. ‘Mother can stay here and keep watch.’

His sister gave him a sly smile. ‘Good thinking,’ she said. ‘If anyone knows anything, even a sliver of information, it is Varric. And yes, I will risk Aveline’s rage.’ For the first time since Bethany’s death Carver fully smiled at her.

‘Alright sister, let’s get this solved.’ He even gave her a slap on the shoulder.

‘Wait a minute!’ Leandra started to protest. ‘You can’t leave me here alone!’

‘You won’t be alone,’ Marian called over her shoulder. ‘Alrond will be here with you and he is the hero of the day. Or rather the night.’

With that they were off, Hawke to the Keep and Carver to the Hanged Man.

-

Half an hour later the four of them were gathered around the mystery woman. Leandra had already gone back to bed before they arrived, which didn’t surprise Hawke.

‘I see you haven’t removed her armour yet,’ Aveline said, the sleep still thick in her voice.

‘We wanted to wait for your expertise,’ Marian smoothly said. The Guard Captain had been less than amused to be dragged out of her bed.

‘Never seen that face before in my life,’ Varric put in a word, rather gruffly. He hadn’t been amused either, but a good story-teller had to be prepared to sacrifice his well earned sleep. Even if it meant to be waked up by a far too loud shouting youth.

‘Give me a hand, will you,’ Aveline told Hawke and together they started to remove the light black armour. And then they found it. A pendant hidden under the woman’s undershirt.

‘I know that symbol,’ Aveline said breathlessly when the light of a candle caught the illustrious pattern.

Marian blanched.

‘A Seeker,’ she whispered.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this turn. There will be a lot more of it.
> 
> At any rate, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

-

A long time after Hawke had left, Fenris was still sitting in his chair, staring into the fire. Now and again he took a swill from the bottle close at hand. He was thinking of her, about the impression she had made on him – all the impressions. No, he still didn’t trust her, even though they had shared a very pleasant time once the tension had drifted off. He didn’t trust anyone and Hawke was a mage to boot, although he had to admit he never had met a mage like her before in his entire life. Could it be true that not every mage was eager to use blood magic or wanted to be a powerful Magister? He was absolutely not willing to believe that and yet ... This woman that acted like a rogue and looked like a statue of an extraordinarily talented sculptor, a very lively statue that was, had almost been able to make him forget she was a mage at all. If he weren’t careful, the next step would be that he started to think magic wasn’t dangerous and mages could be befriended without any peril. If he weren’t careful this Marian Hawke would soften him and when he had let his guard down, she would strike. All mages were like that, in the end she would turn out to be no different.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. He imagined he could still smell her scent; she had been surrounded by a faint aroma of rosemary, sweet and spicy with something wild in it. It reminded him of the warm summers in the north. Her smile had been radiant, always reaching her astonishing sparkling deep blue eyes like warm, living sapphires. Her long honey blond flowing hair, nonchalantly pinned up, had lightened up like gold when the rays of the sun shone on it. One moment he almost had wanted to reach out to tuck a rogue strand behind her ear, because it constantly fell into her face. Behind his closed eyes he saw her elegant hands, energetically moving with every word she spoke, the way she tilted her head, almost in a vulnerable way. Her warm husky voice, low for a woman, still echoed in the room. He saw the curve of her neck, the swelling of her breasts under her close fitting leather jerkin.

With a jolt he opened his eyes and abruptly jumped up, before his reverie would let his tight leggings become uncomfortable. He went to the cellar to fetch another bottle of wine. Better make that two. _Venhedis_! This woman was dangerous, he should be more than cautious around her.

And on the other hand ... something about her was comfortable and trustworthy.

-

Hawke had said very little, she was still in shock. Carver and Varric had taken her to the Hanged Man while Aveline had summond a few guards to move the corpse of the Seeker to the Keep. She had instructed them to leave the dead woman in the deepest and thus coolest cellar to wait for further investigation. She had ordered them to keep their mouths shut at penalty of sewer-duty. The two guardsmen had looked puzzled, carefully remarking there was no such thing as sewer-duty, after which their captain had threatened to invent said duty this very minute. After that she had joined the others in Varric’s suite. To her dismay she noticed the vulgar pirate was also present. The dwarf had dealt everyone a generous amount of good and strong Antivan brandy and Hawke had gulped hers down in one big swig. He hadn’t even flinched.

‘A Seeker. I can’t believe it. A Seeker,’ Hawke now whimpered.

‘Oh come on, sweetness, why are you so upset about that? Surely just one –’ Isabela started but was immediately cut off by Hawke’s angry outburst.

‘Because there never is _just on_ e but even _just one_ is more dangerous than all bitch Meredith’s blighted Templars together! That’s why!’ Marian snapped.

‘That at least explains why I didn’t recognize this one,’ Varric said. ‘I don’t know any Seekers. That is, as far as I’m aware of.’ He refilled Hawke’s glass.

‘Don’t make light of this,’ Hawke snarled.

‘Madam, I wouldn’t dare.’ For a moment he contemplated petting Hawke’s hand but he thought the better of it and just put the bottle back on the table. In the state she was now in, she was more likely to bite his hand off than appreciate the soothing gesture.

Hawke and Carver had hastily donned their armour before running off in their different directions, and at the moment she was impatiently fiddling with a clasp that hadn’t been fastened all too well. The buckle broke and fell with a faint clinking sound on the wooden floor.

‘O bloody hell,’ Hawke swore violently. ‘What now! This is my only decent armour, damn it.’

‘Calm down, Hawke,’ Aveline reacted, reasonably as usual. ‘I’m sure it can be repaired. There are more important issues to worry about at this time.’

Marian groused something incomprehensible and took another large swig of her brandy.

‘Do you have any idea why a Seeker would be after you?’ Aveline asked. In all the excitement she hadn’t come to this question earlier.

‘We don’t even know if she really was after Marian,’ Carver remarked before his sister could answer.

Hawke glared daggers at him. ‘I’m the blasted mage here, aren’t I? Or do you think she wanted to scold you for being an idiot? Or fine Gamlen for his appalling choice of night clothing?’

‘Hey! I’m not an – ouch!’ Aveline nudged him sharply in the ribs with an armoured elbow to silence him.

‘A quarrel between you two won’t help the situation, so shut it,’ she said sternly. ‘Someone in this city has to know about the presence of a Seeker. She might have shown up in the Chantry. Perhaps you should talk with the Grand Cleric, Hawke.’

‘Brilliant idea,’ Hawke sneered.’ Why don’t I just march into the Gallows right away and turn myself in. And besides that, she looked as anonymous as possible, so I don’t think she has been to the Chantry to tell Elthina what she was doing in Kirkwall. I assume she was sent here on some sort of secret mission.’ She stared absent-mindedly into her glass before she downed the remaining brandy.

‘You mentioned there never is just one Seeker,’ Varric said while pouring her another measure of his precious liquid.

Hawke grimaced sourly. ‘As far as I’ve heard, they usually operate in pairs.’

‘So that means ...’ Isabela started, hesitantly.

‘That there is still another one around, alive and well,’ Hawke ended the sentence for her.

‘That’s great,’ Carver grumbled sullenly. ‘Just great. You know, I bet that elf of yours is behind all this. Who says he’s actually an escaped slave? He might as well be a mage-hunter, as far as we know.’

Hawke looked at her brother as if he had gone completely insane and that was exactly what she thought. ‘First, he is not _my_ elf and second, if that ludicrous idea were true, he concocted one hell of a diversion. With lots of people willing to sacrifice their lives to arrest just one mage.’

‘I’m not convinced,’ Carver shrugged and Marian rolled her eyes.

‘Like I said, an idiot.’

‘As a matter of fact, we could turn the existence of a second Seeker into our advantage,’ Aveline said, raising her voice. ‘We can try to find this person and force the information out of him. Or her.’

‘Indeed,’ Hawke retorted sarcastically. ‘The only thing we have to do is stumble upon someone who has made her- or himself unidentifiable. We might as well rip off the clothes of every passerby to search for a certain pendant. Preferably before they commit suicide.’

Aveline thumped the table. ‘Will you stop being such an insufferable pain in the ass and work with me?’ she angrily shouted ‘This is getting us nowhere.’

Hawke let out a deep sigh and pulled her hand through her face. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘I’ll try to be more cooperative. Nevertheless, it will be very difficult to find the other Seeker, if there is one at all.’

‘Difficult, not impossible. Varric, you know everyone in this city.’ The guard captain sounded very determined, as if she was planning for battle.

‘Apparently not,’ the dwarf murmured but he smiled brightly at her when she gave him a highly irritated scowl. ‘I will have an ear out, in fact every ear I can put my hands upon. Someone must know something.’

‘I’ll go to the harbour first thing in the morning, to inquire after passengers who docked over the last week,’ Isabela piped up.

Aveline cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Really? Who would have thought you could be useful.’

‘I’m a gift box full of surprises,’ the pirate queen beamed. ‘You just have to unwrap me.’

‘And I will interrogate my guardsmen,’ Aveline said, ignoring Isabela’s remark. ‘Especially the ones who had gate-duty the last few days. You see, Hawke, we will get results in no time. And with that I call it a night.’

Hawke suddenly looked up, her – again – empty glass in her hand. ‘I want to see the body,’ she said. ‘I hardly got the chance to have a good look at it.’

‘Yes, tomorrow morning, Hawke, after a good night’s sleep,’ Aveline tried, dreading what would come next.

‘No, right now. I won’t be able to get any sleep anyhow.’

‘Perhaps _you_ won’t, but I –‘

‘I said _now_. And someone gets Anders, he can be of use; after all he is a healer and has to have knowledge of poisons.’

Aveline groaned loudly, knowing she wouldn’t be able to change Hawke’s mind. At times the woman could be as stubborn as a mule.

‘He won’t be very pleased to be waked up in the middle of the night,’ Varric carefully said. ‘I know I wasn’t. And why do you need him anyway?’

‘He can identify the poison the Seeker used. Every scrap of information helps,’ Hawke stated. ‘And I want him to do it right now, before the poison has disappeared or evaporated or whatever the stuff does.’ She slurred a little but despite that, her reflexes were still sharp; Varric was too late to save his costly brandy. She didn’t even bother with her glass this time, instead she drank deeply straight from the bottle.

‘O-kay,’ Varric said. ‘Never argue with a drunken woman. I’ll go and fetch the mage. See you at the Keep, I suppose.’

‘I am not drunk,’ Hawke bit heatedly.

‘I beg to differ,’ the dwarf mumbled under his breath and then hastened out of the room and the Hanged Man to go to Darktown, where the aforesaid mage ran a clinic. He already pitied the poor man.

-

Anders looked very concerned. His face still bore traces of the fast sleep he had been treasuring, until Varric had dragged him out of it; although by now he was wide awake.

‘Are you certain this is – was a Seeker?’ he asked. He, Varric, Aveline, Carver and Hawke were standing around the corpse which was lying on a stone slab in a room in the depths of the Keep. Isabela had gone back to bed, declaring she needed her night’s rest if she were to go to the docks early the next day. Aveline had looked very jealous, wishing she could do the same.

They had lighted several torches to have a good sight. Hawked pointed at the pendant around the dead woman’s neck and said, ‘As certain as can be.’ She felt a little light-headed; she knew she shouldn’t have drunk that much booze in such a short time but there was nothing she could do about that now. ‘What can you tell about the poison?’

‘I’m positive it is Crow venom,’ Anders said without hesitation. ‘Always deadly and there is no antidote. In the right dose it works within seconds, as it obviously did in this case.’

‘That was a great help,’ Carver said, mockingly. ‘Now we have all the information we need to solve the mystery.’ No one reacted.

Anders kept staring at the Seeker, biting his lip. ‘Have you considered the possibility she was trying to get to me through you?’ he asked. ‘I mean, hardly anyone knows you’re a mage.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Hawke scoffed. ‘She only had to follow me to discover your whereabouts. Better even: she just had to ask the Templars. They must know about your clinic.’

‘No, they still haven’t found me.’

‘Alright, good for you and all that, but most Templars are a bunch of nitwits who can’t find their own arses without a map. Seekers are of a whole different breed. So if you were the target, why try to sneak into our hovel? Or are you hiding some other secret we should know about, besides being the host to some deranged spirit?’

‘Justice is not deranged,’ Anders said in a slightly irritated tone. ‘And no, I don’t have other secrets except for a few private ones I’m not willing to share.’

‘Keep them to yourself, I don’t even want to know.’ Marian started tapping her foot, feeling considerably frustrated. She wanted to do something, turn Kirkwall upside-down, if that would take to get the answers she was looking for.

‘Well, I am enormously relieved,’ Anders snorted. ‘Can I go back to my bed now, or do you want me to cut her open to see if she has swallowed a message that clarifies everything? I will have patients waiting for me within a couple of hours, you know.’

‘I’m totally of the same mind,’ Aveline agreed. ‘Some sleep would do us all good. This whole mess will look a great deal better in the morming.’

Marian was getting very annoyed by now. She turned sharply to Varric. ‘And you? Also eager to get some sleep? I remember last night you were willing to stay awake to work on your fabulous new romantic novel.’

The dwarf smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t want to be a fuss-budget, Hawke, but couldn’t this have waited till tomorrow?’ he said as gentle as possible, stifling a yawn.

Marian snapped.

‘No!’ she suddenly yelled at the top of her voice. ‘It couldn’t! A Seeker tries to break in, without doubt with the intension to haul me out of my house because of Maker knows why, another one is still on the loose somewhere in Kirkwall, waiting for the right moment to pounce upon me and all you lot can do is complain about your loss of sleep! You know what, I don’t need you. Go fuck yourself!’

She stormed off, leaving the others behind in utter bewilderment.

‘What exactly triggered this outburst?’ Anders finally informed.

‘She’s tense,’ Aveline explained with a sigh.

‘Overreacting,’ Carver said somewhat fractious.

‘And pretty drunk,’ Varric added, regretfully thinking of his as good as empty bottle.

‘I can understand she is tense. Having a Seeker at your tail is not a pleasant thought. We really should go to the bottom of all this,’ Anders said, considerately.

‘I should probably go after her,’ Carver hesitantly murmured.

‘Just leave her,’ Aveline yawned. ‘I don’t think she’s in danger right now. At this moment she probably will tear out the throat of anyone who dares to attack or even bother her. And that includes you. Just go home, Carver. I’m sure she’ll pop up in the morning.’

Carver nodded in agreement.

Not moments later the four of them were off to their beds, hoping to catch some sleep after this eventful night.

-

Hawke burst into Fenris’s mansion. She had been running all the way from the Keep, and was trying to catch her breath after she had conquered the stairs and stumbled into the only room he apparently wanted to use. Fenris had already leapt up at her noisy entrance, sword in hand. Her head was spinning and she almost fell, so she grabbed the first thing she could get a hold on to prevent her from that humiliation. It happened to be his arm. She wasn’t prepared for his reaction but then again, so many things had happened the last few hours she hadn’t been prepared for, that a dragon should have made an appearance to make her be surprised. The elf shrank back as if she had stung him or had been that very dragon and pushed her away.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he spat.

Hawke slumped heavily into a chair that happened to be in her line of crashing down. ‘Remind me to fall flat on my face the next time,’ she breathed. ‘And put that sword away, you might hurt someone.’

‘That is the purpose of a weapon,’ he coolly replied. ‘And may I ask what you are doing here _this_ time? At this hour of the night no less? I must say I’m rather curious.’

He noticed her face was flushed, her hair appeared to be in complete disarray and her hands were slightly trembling. It was obvious something had happened and it probably wasn’t pleasant. He started to regret his vicious reaction to her touch. He had responded out of instinct. Touch equalled hurt, punishment and humiliation. Up till now she hadn’t shown any intension to hurt, punish or humiliate him at all, sooner the opposite. But, as he had contemplated the former evening, although he was intrigued by her, he didn’t trust her and he wondered if he ever would. He sat back in his chair and waited for her explanation.

Hawke asked herself by now what indeed she was doing here. Without thinking she had fled the Keep, right to his mansion. She realized now she had to tell him about Anders, the mage with that creepy spirit living inside his body, or mind or whatever. She still couldn’t grasp it entirely. And about Merrill. The shy, childish Dalish blood mage who had abandoned her clan to live in Kirkwall, because of reasons she still couldn’t fully understand either. And last but not least about the Seekers who were after her. She took a deep breath.

‘You’re not going to like this,’ she began. ‘And undoubtedly never want to see me again, let alone you’ll accompany me into the Deep Roads –‘

‘Hawke, please, just spit it out. Let me make my own conclusions afterwards.’

His voice, so warm and dark and full of hints at a night of hot sex that she at this moment could not memorised ever had had, let alone with him ... _oh not now, for the Maker’s sake and Andraste’s burning tits and all that nonsense_ ...

And she did spit it out. She spoke so fast and so incomprehensible that he wouldn’t have been able to get even a slight part of the picture, if he hadn’t been trained to understand a simple nod and look.

After she finished, she bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered with a hint of a sob in her voice that made him crumble despite himself and his inner defences, and then fell silent, waiting for his reaction. His condemnation undoubtedly.

He looked at her for a long time, all the while trying to take in the amount of information she had been shooting at him. He saw the tears she was heroically trying to withhold, the fear she was radiating, together with the shame and confusion that were almost visibly raging through her mind. He saw the vulnerability he also had noticed last evening, or afternoon, when she had tilted her head in that specific way. And he noticed something else. It made what she had said and how she behaved even more trustworthy. Because wasn’t the saying that only children and drunk people told the truth?

‘How much did you have to drink this night, Hawke?’ he asked.

She looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. This was not something she had expected him to asked. If not the last thing. ‘I, what?’

Fenris shot her a crooked smile. She almost moaned. And very hard tried not to start crying.

‘How many glasses?’

It dawned on her.

‘Oh, that. I don’t know. About four. Or five. I think. Could have been more.’

‘Four or five or even more of what?’

Hawke frowned. ‘Varric’s infamous Antivan brandy. What about it?’

Fenris shook his head and made a grave effort at not laughing out loud. Antivan brandy. That explained a lot. Although still not why she had come to him.

‘Again Hawke, why are you here?’

She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. ‘I don’t really know,’ she meekly confessed. ‘Everyone was fussing about not getting enough sleep and I have the impression that you don’t seem to care a lot about that. I thought you’d be awake. Well, I did not think at all, I think.’ She let out a short mirthless chuckle. ‘I sound stupid, don’t I? I just hoped you would listen, you’re good at that. And perhaps even that you would understand. I mean, you know about being hunted. How intimidating and utterly frightening that feels. I’m sorry. I said that before, didn’t I? I mean it though.’ She removed her hands and looked at him, completely lost.

Fenris nearly cringed but immediately composed himself. _Don’t trust her, just give her the benefit of the doubt. You already agreed on that. Stay alert_. Once again he smiled reassuringly at her, taking the bottle of wine in his hand.

‘You do attract the strangest kinds of living beings,’ he remarked dryly while taking a swig from his bottle. ‘A blood mage, a possessed one and now a Seeker.’ _And me_ , he silently added and inwardly cuffed himself for it.

‘Yes, and what’s the difference between them all,’ Hawke murmured. She felt relieved after her rather boisterous confession. Not alone about the existence of the two other mages in her entourage, but also about the sudden appearance of the terminal dead Seeker. She had been afraid he would have thrown her out of his mansion, but instead he had taken in all the overwhelming information with at least outward calmness. Even comprehension. He smiled at her where she had feared rage.

Fenris realized he wanted to get angry; in fact he should be furious after all she had told him. But he didn’t even manage to be annoyed. This intoxicated Hawke was quite endearing. _Even not being intoxicated this woman is endearing. And beautiful. And worthy to get to know better. And again, don’t go there you fool._

Hawke let out a deep sigh and because of his inner struggle he almost missed it.

‘I shouldn’t have bothered you,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you for now. Thank you for your time.’ She made a serious effort to get up.

‘No Hawke, stay.’ He frowned at the sound of his own words.

She shook her head. ‘No, I shouldn’t do that. Oh shit.’ She fell back in her chair and put a hand to her brow.

‘You ... how shall I put it, are quite inebriated, Hawke. I don’t want you to roam the streets in this state. You’re staying here. You can sleep in my bed.’ Well, a drunken mage couldn’t do much harm and for some reason he felt responsible for her well-being. She had shown him an amount of trust he was certain he wouldn’t be able to repay. _You are doing it now, aren’t you? Shut up_.

‘And where will you sleep?’ she protested.

‘Don’t worry about that. I shall fetch you a glass of water first.’ He stood up from his chair, lingering, wanting he could muster the courage to touch her, if only to lay a reassuring hand upon hers. But he couldn’t.

She weaved her fingers together in a nervous way, pressing her lips and knitting her brows. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered and then gave him a very quivering and uncertain smile. ‘Perhaps the impulse to run to you wasn’t that stupid after all.’

And now he had to flee to the kitchen to get that glass of water, if only to prevent himself from doing something utterly insane. When he returned, she already had fallen asleep. He stood a long while just looking at her, trying to find the right feeling for her and at the same time dismissing it, because it was too dangerous. In the end he threw a blanket over her and took position in the chair opposite to the one she occupied. At last, he too, fell asleep. And for the first time since ages got not plagued with nightmares.

\-  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I never liked Hawke's mother very much. The way she blamed her for her sibling's death, almost enraged me and it didn't get much better after that, what with her wanting to marrying her off.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

\- 

The moment Hawke opened her eyes, her head got attacked with a heavy axe and she wholeheartedly hoped that was, indeed, figuratively. She closed her eyes again, put a hand over them and groaned. ‘Oh Maker, what the hell have I been doing?’ 

‘Antivan brandy.’ 

The voice hit her brain like a saw, be it a saw made out of warm and rich velvet, with a generous splash of molten dark sugar and more than a touch of – 

Remembrance struck and she groaned even louder, this time out of shame. She wanted to disappear into the first hole in the ground available. Now other body parts began to ask for her attention; her back and shoulders, for instance, were stiff and sore and she realized she was sitting in a chair, or rather slumped into and draped over one. She found out she was covered with a blanket and she clung on to the cloth as if it could make her invisible. After a couple of moments she dared to take a peek. Fenris was standing before her, his face wearing a perfectly blank expression. There was no trace of a smile or consideration, on the other hand she could find no scorn or anger either. He held out a steaming mug. 

‘I thought you would like some coffee,’ he said evenly. ‘Thankfully I found some in the kitchen.’ 

She let go of the blanket and accepted the proffered mug. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, ‘exactly what I need right now.’ She grunted some more while she tried to sit straight and her whole body screamed out in agony. ‘I’m sorry; I’ve made a hopeless fool of myself last night.’ 

‘Antivan brandy does tend to do that to people,’ he retorted while he took place in his own chair. 

‘That stuff should be prohibited,’ she agreed. ‘But then again, being wanted by a Seeker isn’t very good for your health either.’ 

‘As far as I understand, the Seeker’s health has suffered much more from her actions than yours did.’ 

Despite herself Hawke had to laugh which caused another axe-assault. ‘O bloody hell,’ she groused. ‘I truly hope you don’t think I’m always like this. Please believe me when I tell you that I usually don’t behave like a hysterical idiot.’ 

‘Perhaps next time you better stick to ale or wine,’ Fenris said mildly. 

‘Perhaps I should.’ And then she remembered how she had been yelling at her companions, and the way she had left them. She sighed heavily before taking a small sip of the coffee. Hot and strong. Perfect. One positive thing this morning. ‘I’m afraid you’re not the only one I have to apologise to. I have been acting like a complete moron to everyone.’ 

‘I’m certain they will understand,’ Fenris said. Even in the way she looked at this moment, with bloodshot eyes, a sickly white face and hair like a bird’s nest, she still was dangerously attractive. He had been observing her for the last couple of hours, all the while reflecting on the things she had told him. Again he had tried to get angry and again he had failed. Instead he had pledged to himself he would keep his defences up. Despite her beauty and vulnerability, she still was a mage after all. And besides that ... the mere thought that someone could be able to tear down his inner walls, was too terrifying to even consider. Better to keep his distance, in every way possible. He was relieved when she finally left and the more annoyed with himself when he realized he missed her presence at the same time. He took his sword and descended to the large hall on the ground floor to practise his battle-movements in an attempt to get her out of his mind for some hours. 

\- 

A week passed. Hawke had made aments with everyone she had offended although, to her relief, she found they hadn’t been that much offended at all. Except for her brother of course, but that was to be expected. More important was that despite all their efforts, they hadn’t been able to find even the slightest clue about the dead Seeker or the one presumably still alive. The good news was there hadn’t been any other attacks. 

‘You know,’ Aveline said one afternoon while she and Hawke were taking a stroll through Hightown in the gentle spring sun, ‘I’m starting to think that woman wasn’t a Seeker after all but just some assassin. In your year as a Red Iron mercenary you have made quite a few enemies. She could well have been someone who tried to take revenge for whatever you did to one of them.’ 

Hawke nodded in agreement. The same thought had also crossed her mind after she had been able to see the case in a sound perspective. ‘We simply assumed she was a Seeker because of that pendant, but she could have obtained that thing in so many ways. She even could have made it herself, or had it fabricated for her. I mean, the symbol of the Seekers is widely known. She could have been an admirer, wanting to be one of them, although I can’t see why,’ she added somewhat sourly. ‘In any case, her behaviour wasn’t very characteristic for a Seeker. I believe they are usually more subtle than your average Templar, but they have the authority to drag you away and clap you in irons on a whim. They answer only to the Divine. No need to use stealth.’ 

‘I doubt even the Divine has any power over them,’ Aveline grinned. 

And with that they let the issue rest although they stayed vigilant. 

She had seen Fenris only once during that week, when he had agreed to accompany her to the Wounded Coast, together with Aveline and Isabela, to root out a nest of raiders who had been terrorising the route leading to Starkhaven. He had been very silent on that assignment, not willing to participate in the conversations, only answering with one-word sentences when someone addressed him. Even Isabela had given up hope to coax something interesting out of him despite all her efforts. Her sexual teemed remarks had made Hawke cringe and Aveline swear out loud, but Fenris seemed not have been effected at all. 

‘You really have turned brooding into a sport,’ the pirate queen had complained, frustrated by the lack of reaction. That had made Hawke feel a little better, although she wondered why the elf was so distant. She feared it was because of the way she had invaded the privacy of his house in the middle of the night and the confession about the existence of Anders and Merrill. Which was the reason why she had neither of them asked to come with them that day. She hoped he would come by. 

\- 

This night it was raining. Or rather it seemed that countless bathtubs were emptied from the evening sky. The word “pour” was by far insufficient to describe the amount of water showering down. Hawke thought it wise to don her dark grey waxed cloak although she hated the heavy shapeless garment. But on the other hand, she also hated to look like a drowned cat, and although it was not very far from her uncle’s hovel to the Hanged Man, she was positive she would look like one once she had arrived there. 

‘Oh darling, surely you don’t want to go out in this weather!’ her mother protested, when she saw her eldest wrapping the cloak around the leather armour she was wise enough to wear in a place like Lowtown. Even if it wasn’t her intent to fight, it might be somebody else’s intent and you’d better go prepared. That’s also why she neither went anywhere without her daggers, magic or no. 

‘I have an appointment with my friends, Mother,’ Marian said, not being fooled by the so easily used word “darling”. ‘I would disappoint them by staying away. Besides that, I know how to swim, don’t worry.’ 

‘I really wished you would stay away from that appalling place,’ her mother complained; of course she knew exactly where her daughter was headed. ‘It’s bad enough that you’re brother lingers there so often, but it is absolutely no place for a decent woman.’

 _You should know where your son lingers quite often as well_ , Hawke thought but didn’t say aloud. It would be a sin to spoil the fun for Isabela and herself by not being able to threaten Carver anymore to tell Leandra about his visits to the Blooming Rose. They all knew their mother would have a fit, Maker knew why. It was nothing but normal that a young man of his age had certain urges and to relieve them with the ladies of the Rose, was a much better idea than making use of one of the many whores that roamed the streets of Lowtown. 

Marian opened the rickety door and a gush of wind slapped a cold splash of rain into her face. 

‘Well, if wishes were poppies we would all be dreaming right now,’ she snapped, quoting her uncle when he had been trying to explain why he had lost the Amell estate in Hightown. ‘Ask your dear brother, he seems to know all about it.’ And at those words she slammed the door shut behind her. The flare of anger almost immediately cooled while she descended the steps that led to the street below. She felt a pang of guilt and hoped that her mother hadn’t heard her vicious remark although she was almost certain she had. The wind might have scattered her words but her mother had a sharp hearing. She didn’t deserve that, she had gone through the same ordeals of the Blight as her children. She had lost her husband and her youngest daughter. But their relationship, never very warm at the best of times, had become icy since the death of Bethany. Especially because her mother had given her the blame of that horrible occurrence. As if it hadn’t been hard enough to witness her baby sister being crushed by that dreadful ogre before she could have intervened. And before that, she had silently accused her of the death of her father. Hawke had read it in her eyes although her mother never had said it out loud, not after what ... She groaned silently. Not now. Not ever again. She had cast those gruesome memories aside, or at least locked them away in a secret place somewhere in the depths of her mind. And she wouldn’t allow them to break free to haunt her. 

She took a deep breath before she pushed the door of the Hanged Man open. Almost immediately she got surrounded by the smell, to put it mildly, of cheap liquor, stale ale and body odour, the latter even more strongly present because of the wetness due to the deluge outside. But at the same time she welcomed the warmth and the cosiness, although she was well aware that a word like "cosiness" didn’t fit to a place filled with the ragtag of society. It was not only wise to wear armour in the dangerous streets of Lowtown, but also in here. Just as a pair of sharp daggers could come in handy in a tavern filled with cutthroats, thugs and thieves. It took a few moments to adjust her eyesight to the semi-darkness and she heard the voice sooner then she had spotted the owner. 

‘Oi Hawke! Over here!’ Ah yes, and pirates of course. 

She navigated to the table in the corner where her friends were seated. Isabela was already waving to Corff, the barman, to pour out another round of ale. Varric, sitting next to her, gave her a wide grin. Merrill, at the head of the table, turned her head to give her a bright smile. ‘So nice to see you Hawke!’ she merrily exclaimed. 

She was almost immediately drowned out by the dwarf’s loud melodious baritone. ‘Hawke! There you are! Maybe _you_ can convince the brooding elf over there to participate in an innocent game of wicked grace,’ he cheerfully called out. 

‘Nothing with you is ever innocent, Varric,’ she automatically replied before his words caught up with her mind. Only now her eyes fell upon Fenris who, to her defence, had tried to make himself invisible in the darkest corner of the tavern. She was grateful for the lack of light so no one could see her expression. Her fingers, already untying the laces of her cloak, stopped altogether. 

‘I’m surprised Mother allowed you to come,’ her brother Carver badgered. He was, of course, sitting as close to Merrill as he dared without risking too much comment. Perhaps she should start to threaten him to tell the small elf about his visits to the Rose. She grinned at the possibilities that would bring. 

‘Well, I believe I’m old enough to make my own decisions, thank you very much. It’s time she understands that she no longer can boss me around.’ ( _As if she ever has been able to_ ). ‘And neither can you,’ she added in an ominous tone. Carver could be such a pain in the ass. In fact he _was_ a pain in the ass, constantly. She continued unfastening her cloak. 

‘O bloody hell,’ she heard Isabela curse, undoubtedly preventing another nasty argument between sister and brother. ‘That son of a bitch gets lazier by the day.’ She pushed back her chair and Marian didn’t have to turn her head to know that she was elbowing her way to the bar to repeat her order for the round of ale. Loudly. And elbowing was, of course, not the right word to describe how she made the men simply disappear out of her path. They would jump back out of respect, completely mesmerised, either gawking at her appearance or mortally afraid of her sharp tongue and ditto knives. Those would be the ones with experience. 

‘How does she manage that?’  Merrill sighed in wonderment. 

Hawke was standing behind her, so she wasn’t able to see her face. But she could clearly imagine her large innocent looking eyes, so not fitting with being a blood mage. It was still a puzzle. 

‘Daisy, they all have suffered from broken fingers and various other inconveniences by making the wrong decisions,’ Varric chuckled. 

‘No! I mean the way she ... swaggers. How her hips move. Ah, I wish I could do that. It looks so elegant.’ ‘

Really?' Hawke dryly reacted. 'I thought it looked more like sex on legs.'

Varric heaved his mug at her. ‘Very well observed, Hawke,’ he grinned. ‘The way the men react to her, I’m positive that she would start a riot if she’d sway those hips an inch wider.’ 

‘Perhaps you could take lessons,’ Anders remarked with a hint of irritation in his voice. Another one she hadn’t spotted before. But he also had withdrawn into the shadows. 

‘I thought Justice didn’t agree with you getting drunk any longer,’ she smiled. 

He lifted a glass of water as a meagre toast. ‘I’m afraid he is getting his way,’ he said glumly. 

Hawke laughed in response. ‘I can already tell that we are going to have a lot of fun with you tonight,’ she grinned. ‘And, by the way, would you really want to see Varric sway his hips like that? I think that will start a serious riot.’ 

Despite the dim light she could see Anders roll his eyes. ‘I meant Merrill of course,’ he grumbled. Indeed, no fun at all. 

‘Are you planning on standing the whole night or are you finally going to pick a seat.’ Isabela was passing her with a tray full of mugs she deftly manoeuvred with one hand between Carver and Merrill before putting it on the table, while she pushed Hawke with her other hand to the only vacant chair. It happened to be the chair next to Fenris. She slumped down, rather clumsily due to the pirate’s push, and almost fell over. She would have ended in the elf’s lap, hadn’t she clasped the edge of the table just in time. Involuntarily she sprayed him with droplets of rain that spattered off the wet cloak. 

_Bloody pirate, I know you did that on purpose. I should smoulder you_. 

She managed to give the elf a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry about that. But nice to see you here,’ she said. 

He stared back at her with his fathomless silvery green look and raised one hand deliberately slow to remove a raindrop from his cheek. ‘I heeded your advice.’ And his voice like burned sugar crawled down her spine. He flashed her the briefest of smiles. ‘At least I must give you that this is by far the most interesting place I ever visited,’ he said. 

With force she composed herself. ‘I’m sure you will enjoy it, ’she said optimistically, while she draped her cloak over the back of the chair. She noticed that he was just wearing his leathers instead of his steel breastplate, and apparently he had changed his sharp gauntlets for supple leather gloves, now lying next to him on the table. A quick look at the side of his chair taught her that he had taken a lighter long sword with him, instead of his heavy broadsword. Good thinking, this equipment would be of more use in the narrow winding streets of Lowtown than his usual outfit. She reached for her mug of ale. 

‘I mentioned interesting, not joyful,’ the elf said in a dark tone. ‘Considering I am surrounded by three mages, and a dwarf who wants to bet the money out of my pockets, you may count yourself lucky you’re still alive by inviting me here.’ 

She took a deliberate long gulp of her ale without swallowing much of the liquid. She wanted very hard to ignore his barbed remark about being surrounded by _three_ mages. She hardly counted herself as one, at least that was what she wished to think. She didn’t act like a mage after all. She fought as a rogue. Although she couldn’t deny she used magic to defend herself, and the ones around her, at the moment her daggers defied her and she needed to keep her companions alive. She knew he considered her otherwise. It stung, or better, his view upon the matter did, but this was the last place and occasion she wanted to put up a fight. She was far too pleased he had shown up this evening. She turned to him but avoided to look into his silvery green eyes. Instead she focused on his tangled moonlike hair which was hardly any better. She forced a smile. _Blasted bloody intriguing elf_. 

‘Well,’ she said, cheerily, ‘since you haven’t made an effort to rip the heart out off my chest yet, I take it you are having a damn good time. In your own way. You could do Varric a pleasure to participate in his stupid game though. That would give _him_ a damn good time, you know.’ She had expected to be scolded, or at least to receive a nasty glower. 

Instead he gave her a smile full of mischief, ever so brief and ever so crushing. It left her completely breathless and unable to speak. It didn’t matter anyway because at the same moment he turned to the dwarf, who was entangled in a hot discussion with the pirate queen. Undoubtedly about her cheating at cards. Of course he had lost three sovereigns and of course she had been cheating but he couldn’t prove it. 

‘Deal me in,’ Fenris said. Hawke was astounded. As was Varric. 

‘You did it,’ he beamed at her. ‘I knew if anyone could convince him, it would be you. Well, elf, have you ever played wicked grace before?’ 

Fenris’s glare was unreadable. ‘No,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure I’ll pick it up along the way.’ 

‘In that case, handsome, we will play a few rounds without gambling,’ Isabela purred. ‘I would hate the thought of taking advantage of you.’ _Yeah right_

‘No need,’ Fenris responded with that low voice that made Marian’s stomach knot together, although she cursed herself for it. _Bloody hell, get over it._

‘O but Fenris, she is so very good at this,’ Merrill’s childlike voice protested. ‘You really should try to learn the rules first, they are so intricate, I still don’t understand them. It’s like trying to sway your hips, you keep tripping over your feet!’ 

Fenris didn’t even bother to give her a look but Hawke wondered, not for the first time, whether the elven mage wasn’t half the child she seemed to be, or if it was something Dalish. 

Carver leaned closer. ‘This could be interesting,’ he grinned. He took the opportunity to lay his arm over the back of Merrill’s chair, his hand not an inch from her shoulder. 

‘Interesting is not even beginning to describe it,’ Varric smiled. ‘But, Rivaini, with this one your usual weapons won’t suffice, I’m afraid.’ 

‘What, she is not going to _stab_ him, is she?’Merrill shrieked. 

Even Hawke had to laugh at this, after a jealous look at Isabela’s lustrous and inviting cleavage. Luckily the rest of her barely concealed exotic body was hidden under the table. 

‘I hardly believe she will attack him with her daggers,’ Anders smirked. 

‘Well, honeycomb, let’s start this,’ Isabela said with a hot look of her kohl surrounded velvet dark eyes that would take down every man present. All but Fenris, so it seemed. ‘If you win more than five sovereigns off of me, I’ll throw in a round of whisky as well.’ 

\- 

Six rounds later she was utterly crushed and defeated. 

Fenris was comfortably leaning back into the back of his chair, his dark brows slightly raised in what might be an amused expression. ‘Want another round?’ he asked relaxed. He had stretched his long legs under the table and was studying her with mild interest. 

Isabela looked flustered, well frankly, she looked completely devastated. And very angry. 

‘You promised to deal everyone a glass of the infamous Hanged Man’s whisky, if you should lose more than five sovereigns,’ Varric happily helped Isabela remind her to her promise. He laughed out loud while the pirate did her walk of shame to the counter.

‘I thought you didn’t know the game of wicked grace,’ Marian hissed in the meantime. Beside her Fenris chuckled very uncharacteristically. She felt her head spin. _What did I tell you, you absolute dim-witted fool. Stop it_. 

‘I didn’t. But after an evening of observation, it turned out not to be such a difficult game.’ He paused for a few heartbeats and added, ‘Especially when you know where the pirate queen stuffs her precious cards and you bother with counting the deck.’ 

Oh Maker, he was a witty one, at least he could be if he wanted to. It made her heart flutter. And he was intelligent. And devastatingly handsome. And, yes, broody. But he wasn’t at this moment. This moment he fully smiled at her. She automatically returned the favour, she couldn’t resist. It was such a rare scene that she forgot the sourly insult of being surrounded by three mages, uttered not an hour ago. She got distracted by a very venomous Isabela who practically flung a tray full of glasses on the table. 

‘And you better enjoy it,’ she threatened, turning to Fenris. The elf raised his brow. ‘Either that or I throttle or rape you.’ With that she slumped back into her chair, crossed her arms over her ample bosom and surrounded herself with a dark cloud of anger. 

Varric was immensely amused. So amused that he, in fact, roared with laughter. ‘It’s been a long time since someone bested Rivaini at playing carts,’ he guffawed. ‘This will make a wonderful story indeed!’ After a few snorts he added, ‘She will get over it, don’t worry about that.’ 

Isabela unfolded her arms and shook her head. ‘As a matter of fact, the last one who bested me, was the Hero of Ferelden and I didn’t feel offended by her at all. I mean, the one that slew the Archdemon! It’s almost as good as getting beaten by a incredibly handsome elf. Damn you Varric, it’s such a pity you had to spoil my dramatic act,’ she sighed. 

Anders groaned. ‘This is all getting very tiresome,’ he complained. And again, no fun at all. 

‘Well, if you don’t like it, sweetheart, you can always take your glass of water and disappear back into the Undercity,’ Isabela retorted. 

Hawke noticed that Merrill was still looking wide-eyed at the pirate. 

‘Did you really want to kill him?’ The Dalish elf sounded both respectful and terrified. 

‘Of course not, kitten,’ Isabela giggled. ‘What woman in her sound mind would be so silly as wanting to murder an irresistible gorgeous broody elf like that. I however _would_ want to drag him to my room and -’ 

At the very moment Hawke wanted to interfere, by throwing her whisky into the pirate’s face, for example, Anders jumped up. ‘It’s getting late, I should go back to the clinic,’ he said. 

Merrill also stumbled onto her feet. She looked rosy after finishing her second mug of ale. She hadn’t touched the glass of whisky at all. 

‘Shall I accompany you home?’ Hawke asked, knowing that Merrill didn’t handle alcohol that well, _and_ had an astonishing talent for getting lost. She dreaded the idea of the petite elf wandering through night-time Lowtown, not being able to find her little shack in the Alienage and ending up in the Undercity, though she knew Varric paid a lot of people a considerable amount of money to keep her safe. 

‘I don’t think that is necessary,’ Anders said. ‘I can drop her off.’ He stretched his hand towards Merrill but before she could accept, Carver jumped up, almost knocking over his chair in his hurry. 

‘I will escort you home. That is, if you let me,’ he added hastily. With some effort Hawke stifled a grin. Her brother was almost cute in his clumsy way of courting the little elf. 

Merrill looked up at him with her large eyes. ‘O yes, I would like that. But it is not too much trouble, is it?’ 

‘Not at all,’ Carver said, gripping her arm when she almost keeled over. 

With a sigh of relief, Marian watched the three of them leave the Hanged Man. One grumpy man gone and Merrill safely taken home by her equally grumpy brother. Good riddance of two annoying males. 

She reached for her glass of whisky, or at least the liquid that passed for whisky in the Hanged Man. Halfway she felt Fenris’s look upon her so she turned her head towards him. Yes, he was definitely looking at her, although he tried to hide it by quickly turning his gaze away from her. 

‘What’s so fascinating?’ she asked teasingly, letting him know that she had noticed his interest in whatever it was. 

He looked back at her, clearly embarassed at being caught. ‘I, nothing,’ he stammered after a few moments, merely because she refused to take her eyes off him. ‘I was just looking at your wrists,’ he managed sullenly. 

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘My _wrists_? What is wrong with my wrists?’ 

He shrugged reluctantly. 

She put the glass of whisky back on the table, still without taking her eyes off him, clearly demanding an answer. He couldn’t ignore that glance. 

‘Nothing really. I was just thinking that they look very slim and fragile for someone with such a vicious wallop,’ he volunteered after another few rather heavy moments. 

Marian chuckled and moved the discussed joint here and fro. At least he was referring to her capacity as a rogue now, leaving that vile “mage” behind. ‘On the other hand, they are rather supple,’ she pointed out with a grin. 

Fenris’s sigh sounded annoyed. ‘It was meant as a complement,’ he said lamely. 

Hawke raised her eyebrows in astonishment. A compliment. From him. And the Hanged Man hadn’t collapsed at his words. She looked from the shock of white, moonlike hair, always in disorder as if he restlessly was pulling his hands trough it, which he quite often did by the way, undoubtedly without being aware of it, back to his beautiful, shining green eyes, green with that shade of silver that made them even more intense. She backed down a sudden shiver and instead said, ‘Why, no one has ever given me a compliment about my wrists before. It’s invigorating to find out they are so interesting.’ Her eyes twinkled with joy and tomfoolery. ‘This is a rare occasion. I truly thank you.’ She threw him a sidelong glance and saw his embarrassment. She knew she shouldn’t, but couldn’t help herself. She felt quite giddy at the moment and that undoubtedly helped to push her into the danger zone. 

‘You’re blushing,’ she chortled. 

He reacted as was expected. ‘I don’t blush.’ His voice sounded dark as burned sugar. Again. As a night full of that incredibly hot sex she still hadn’t experienced ... _for the Maker’s sake, don’t go that way. Get a grip_! 

‘Oh yes you do. And you look cute while doing so,’ she added recklessly. She wasn’t prepared for his reaction. His hand shot out and closed around her left wrist with such a force it almost made her flinch. Instead she managed to keep a straight face although her heart shot into her throat. 

‘I hope you understand – ‘ he started but his voice faltered right away when he realized the gravity of his action. He had passed his own boundary of no touch, and worse, with this touch he hurt her. He immediately loosened his grip. To his astonishment she just smiled. And that smile was the reason why his hand lingered. The boundary of no touch. He had drawn a line and _she_ hadn’t crossed it, _he_ had. But she had lured him into touching her, hadn’t she? He should withdraw his hand but he couldn’t. He was shocked by his own reaction, primitive and raw, by how she had driven him over the edge with her twinkling impossible blue eyes, her low slightly gravelly voice, her teasing words. By the warmth and softness of her skin. And by the small enigmatic smile she gave him while her sapphire look bored into his eyes. 

‘That you can snap my bones as easily as if they were dry twigs,’ she completed the sentence he had cut off. ‘Yes, I’m well aware of that.’ 

The smile never left her lips and it bewildered him highly. He had expected a slap in his face, a snarl, a nasty remark. Not this. ‘Of course I would never do that,’ he breathed in utter confusion. 

She looked him straight in his eyes, always with that disconcerting, maddening smile. ‘I know.’ 

Her husky voice intoxicated him. He couldn’t think clearly, not after her calm reaction, not after the low, warm tone of her voice, not after her steady look. His long slender fingers lingered from her wrist along her hand, almost at a will of their own. 

It was all she could do to back down a gasp when his thumb caressed the palm of her hand. It shot a bolt of lightning, several bolts of lightning, all the way down to her stomach, all the way down to the spot where all sensitivity knotted together. And at the same time his fingers entwined with hers. It was too much to bear, she wanted to embrace him, to kiss him, to – Without even knowing, she had closed her eyes and let this unexpected emotion come over her. It almost drove her wild. 

Nearly as at the same moment his touch overwhelmed her, he jerked back his hand. It was a feeling of ultimate loss. She felt suddenly cold and utmost alone. She realized she finely dared to take a breath, after very long moments. She almost whimpered. 

She tried to compose herself, hoping no one had noticed this unexpected intimate ... erotic moment. She hardly dared to glance at him but did it never less, only to see that he looked flushed and bemused. Much as she did, she assumed. 

‘Well, sweetness, don’t like your drink?’ Isabela’s voice dragged her back to the here and now. Any other to call her sweetness and she would have drawn her knives, but she knew the pirate meant well. Although … she saw the hungry look she threw at Fenris and it was enough to ignite a nasty feeling of jealousy. _You bitch_. The thought had hardly past her mind, when she saw the elf push back his chair, gather his gloves and sword and with a curt nod said his goodbye. His gaze lingered for a short moment upon her face. She couldn’t help to look back and give him a rather sheepish grin; it was the best she could manage anyway at this awkward moment. She hated herself for acting like such an idiot. And then he was gone. 

Isabela chuckled. ‘You made quite an impression on him,’ she giggled. 

Suddenly Hawke felt annoyed and tired. ‘O, shut up,’ she snapped. All she wanted right now was a bed, or even the rough pelt of her marbari to lie against. That would be better than go through the scolds of her brother anyway. She stood up and pushed her chair under the table. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said with a half-hearted smile at Isabela and Varric. She donned her cloak and walked out of the Hanged Man into the still pouring rain. 

All the way home she felt his touch, his thumb tracing the lines of her palm, his fingers caressing hers. She had to bite back tears when she finally managed to reach her uncle’s house and crashed down at Alrond’s side, putting her arms around him and breathing in his doggish scent. She cursed herself for being so upset. What the hell was it with that elf that made her feel this way? She bloody well wouldn’t allow herself to fall in love. Not with him; not with someone who hated mages. With no one at all. There were too many issues to deal with, too many problems to tackle. She had no time to fall in love. The marbari responded with a single lick and a comforting snort. As if he understood. Which he probably did. And at last she managed to fall asleep. 

\- 

And another night was spent with roaming through the mansion. And looting the cellar. And drinking too much wine. He hated her. Hated her for being a mage. Hated her for making a turmoil of his head. Hated her for dragging his life upside down. He really had to learn to deal with this, this _woman_.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant as some kind of interlude, to properly introduce some of the characters. And, more important, it served as the tentative overture to the Hawke/Fenris relationship. Next chapter will see much more action.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: action.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 6

-

Meeran hadn’t survived all those years by being a fool. He was clever enough not to bite off more than he could chew. For example, he had never wanted to get his fingers burned by meddling with the profitable but dangerous lyrium smuggling. The Carta and the Coterie were far too mighty to cross; he had stumbled too many times upon corpses of little criminals who thought they could outsmart the two cartels, but only had ended up dead instead of rich. Meeran had always stuck to the so called protection of the Lowtown merchants, which guaranteed a constant flow of money into his coffers. Occasionally he accepted jobs like the assassination of certain people that got in the way of other people, and he dabbled in theft and robbery. Sometimes a little smuggling was part of his business, but that was only about spices, exquisite wines, expensive silks and other luxury, sometimes forbidden, goods. Especially from Orlais and Nevarra. It allowed him a standard of living he was more than content with. He had set up his headquarters in the Docks where he could not only keep an eye out on the incoming ships, but also on the actions of the Carta and Coterie. They too had their offices down there; it usually paid out to know what they were up to, if only to know when to keep out of their way. The headquarters were not meant for clients. Meeran was a strong believer in the system of the so-called “chain-method”, i.e. someone knew someone who knew someone who on their turn knew someone else who could contact a certain person who might have access to the Red Iron. He kept strangers out of his stronghold for safety reasons. It had worked pretty well, up till now that was.

At this moment he was feeling very annoyed. He had been disturbed in the middle of his meal but that was not the worst part. The disturbance was caused by a stranger and that had never happened before. Angrily he wondered what the men who were supposed to stand guard had been doing. Drinking and playing cards, he supposed. Before him stood a tall figure, clad in a long dark cloak that hid whatever armour or clothes he wore underneath. What it didn’t hide was a large, menacing sword. Due to the dim light, cast by a few candles and oil lamps, Meeran couldn’t make out much of the man’s features, except for a pair of severe piercing eyes. The man was alone, but Meeran quickly came to the conclusion the intruder was more than capable to walk away unscratched, leaving just dead men in his wake. And when he looked in those frightening eyes, that was precisely what Meeran feared had happened right now.

‘How many of my men have you killed?’ he asked as cool as he could manage.

‘None. I’m not here to kill,’ the man replied in a low voice that vibrated with authority. Clearly its owner was not used to objections. He spoke with a slight accent that Meeran couldn’t place. It could be Orlesian, then again, it could originate from somewhere entirely else.

The mercenary emptied his mug of ale and pushed away his plate. His men were apparently still alive; that, at least, was something positive. Later he would find out how the stranger had been able to intrude his domain, and punish the ones responsible. Time to tackle the next riddle; evidently at some point the “chain” had sustained a kink. ‘How did you find me?’

‘It is my job to find anyone I want to be found. I understand it is your job to kill anyone when you get paid for it.’

‘You want to have someone killed, then? And who might that be?’

‘I not only want to have someone killed, but, moreover, I want the task specifically carried out by a person who, as I have reasons to believe, is in your service. A woman who goes by the name of Marian Hawke.’

Meeran slowly leaned back into his chair, wiping his mouth. He narrowed his eyes. _Interesting_. ‘Why her?’

‘Because I’ve heard she’s the best.’

‘If you can track down any person you want, then why not go straight to her?’ Meeran cunningly asked.

‘The reasons are my own.’ The man started to sound irritated.

Meeran nodded. He decided it was no use to argue, and risky to boot. For a moment he considered to tell the man to piss off; this was getting tricky. The stranger obviously wasn’t aware of the fact the woman didn’t work for him any longer and he wasn’t at all sure she would accept this assignment. But then he caught once more the look in the most relentless, harsh, steady and darkest eyes he had ever seen and dismissed the idea. He cut the knot. If the man wanted Marian Hawke, he’d get Marian Hawke, even if he himself would be forced to make her do the job.

‘It will cost you extra,’ he said without blinking an eye. ‘She is indeed my best and you have to pay – let us call it insurance, if you want to hire her. To cover the risk she gets injured or worse.’

‘Money is not an issue.’ The man dropped a heavy clinking coin purse on the table. ‘Thirty sovereigns,’ he declared. ‘You can count them if you wish. And thirty more when the job is done.’

Meeran tried very hard to keep a straight face as if this amount of money went through his hands on a daily basis. ‘So now will you tell me what this is all about?’

The man handed him a sealed letter. ‘The only thing you have to do, is to pass this letter on to her. All the information she’ll need is in here.’

‘And what will hold me back to open it, once you’re gone?’

The man didn’t even raise an eyebrow. ‘You can try,’ he said.

Meeran thought it better to leave it at that. ‘I will see to it this letter will be delivered to her immediately.’

Without another word the man turned around and walked out of the room. Meeran couldn’t help suppress a shiver; he had the nasty feeling someone just walked over his grave.

-

Together with Isabela and Varric, Hawke was seated at the table in the dwarf’s suite. She reread the two letters that were delivered at the Hanged Man not half an hour before. The first one, more a message than a letter, was from Meeran; even before opening it, she had recognized his scribble.

_Hawke, if this job is done right, I promise you a good pay. Meeran_.

The second letter was in a neat handwriting and a lot more intriguing.

_Messere Hawke,_

_I want you to go to the DuPuis Mansion this very night and eliminate Gascard DuPuis. Though you are a mercenary and therefore not need to know why, I will nevertheless enlighten you. I have all the reasons to believe DuPuis is not only a necromancer, but most certainly also a notorious slaver. I have personal motivations to see him killed. Do not disappoint me.’_

There was no name or signature.

Pensively Hawked tapped with the letter on her chin. ‘Whoever wrote this, doesn’t know I’m not with the Red Iron anymore and Meeran hasn’t made him all the wiser. That means only one thing.’

‘A lot of money,’ Varric agreed. ‘But Hawke, I have to say, this whole thing smells worse than a barrel of fish in a heat wave. A necromancer _and_ a slaver? It’s a little exaggerated if you ask me. And why tell you? It seems as if this person wants you at the DuPuis mansion very badly.’

Hawke grinned lopsidedly. ‘I recall a certain conversation between the two of us about some serious coin and a suspicious request. Your eyes were shining with the promise of gold back then.’

‘It turned out to be a trap,’ Varric pointed out.

‘But a good intended one,’ countered Hawke.

‘I have the feeling that the one behind this letter doesn’t take no for an answer,’ Isabela remarked. She was lazily leaning back into her chair, putting her crossed feet on the table, a glass of rum in her hand. ‘I mean, “ _I want you to go_ ” and “ _Do not disappoint me_ ” does not sound as if he is asking you for a favour, mere the opposite. He might be dangerous.’

‘He thinks I’m still working for Meeran. You don’t ask mercenaries for favours. You give them an assignment and pay them for a job well done.’

‘Still ... would he like chains and leather I wonder,’ the pirate mused.

‘Andraste’s tits, not now Isabela,’ Hawke groaned. She turned to the dwarf. ‘Last time, you stated you can always rely upon Bianca. I assume that hasn’t changed? Or do I have reasons to be concerned?’ That struck a nerve and she knew it.

Varric raised a hand. ‘Alright, alright, no need to get offensive here. I would just feel better if I knew who this person is. And while we’re at it, a little more information about that DuPuis guy wouldn’t hurt either. I’ve heard the name and know where he lives but that’s all. I however suppose there is no time to find out any more if we are expected there tonight. Why are you so eager to do this?’

Hawke made an impatient gesture, almost knocking over a pitcher with ale. ‘Do you want to go into the Deep Roads or not? I don’t understand why you are fretting like this. It’s just a job about getting rid of a necromancer annex slaver. We haven’t been asked to invade Tevinter or abduct the Divine.’

Varric let out a deep sigh. ‘Fine. But let’s ask the elf to join us. He lives nearby and if it gets messy, we don’t only have Bianca but also a big and mean sword to count on.’

‘Hmm, would he like chains and leather, maybe velvet blindfolds or whipped cream ...’ Isabela ruminated dreamily with half closed lids, slowly swirling the rum in her glass around.

‘Would you please shut up!’ Hawke yelled irritably, feeling a painful bolt of jealousy. ‘And get your mind off sex just for _once_!’

Isabela snapped her eyes open. ‘You really should get laid, Hawke. I think it’s too long ago since someone got into your pants in the good way.’

Hawke ground her teeth but didn’t reply. It was no use to bicker with the pirate queen, especially not over this subject. She stood up. ‘Let’s collect Fenris and go kill a necromancing slavering bastard,’ she said determinedly.

-

The four of them were gathered in the deep shadows between a couple of lanterns, just opposite the DuPuis Mansion in Hightown. The house was plunged into darkness and silence.

‘The place seems to be abandoned,’ Varric observed.

‘That, or this DuPuis person is an early sleeper,’ Isabela said. ‘Or perhaps he is busy in his cellar with creepy necromancy things.’ There was an eager twang to her voice.

Hawke sniggered. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice, in that case we can catch him red-handedly.’

Fenris didn’t comment. He hadn’t been too pleased to be asked along. He still had difficulties facing Hawke, after what happened that night in the Hanged Man. On the other hand, there wouldn’t be just the two of them and, besides that, he hadn’t wanted to refuse an opportunity to kill a slaver. So he had agreed.

‘I’d rather not enter the premises through the front door,’ Hawke said. ‘You never know what we may come across. I think it’s better to look for a back entrance.’

‘What are you afraid of?’ Varric snorted. ‘That an army will be waiting for us behind those doors? In my experience the scariest things are found at the back of houses; they are called guard dogs.’

Hawke contemplated this for a moment. ‘You have a point,’ she gave in. ‘If there are dogs, they will start barking and wake up the whole house. All right, we’ll take the front. Isabela, lock picks?’

‘Have them right here.’

‘Good.’ She hoisted the pack she had brought with her over her shoulder. It contained several healing objects she had deemed useful to take along. You never could tell what would happen in an encounter with a necromancer. Better safe than sorry.

They let a guardsman pass and sneaked behind his back across the little square to disappear into the porch. Not twenty heartbeats later they were inside. The hallway they entered, was dark and they took a few moments to let their eyes adjust. Hawke placed her pack against a wall – no need to drag that around while scouting – and cautiously pushed open the door to the main hall. There, a low fire burned in a monumental hearth and a few alabaster lamps had been lighted.

‘Seemingly not abandoned after all,’ Isabela whispered. ‘And now?’

‘We start upstairs,’ Hawke decided, pointing at the staircase in front of them.

They made it to the middle of the room and then hell broke loose. Armed and armoured men cascaded down the stairs and flowed through the doors right en left from them. Hawke swore out loud.

‘I told you it would be a trap,’ Varric cried, while he retreated till his back was at the door. He had already shouldered his crossbow and loosened a volley.

‘Very helpful, Varric,’ Hawke shouted back. She cursed Meeran under her breath; there would be some serious questions for him to answer.

She narrowly escaped a vicious blow from a mace by jumping aside. The next moment her assailant lay dead, killed by Fenris. She had no time to thank him. She swirled and spun through the hall, lashing out her daggers, kicking her legs around, not even taking the time to notice if she hit someone. _Moving, always keep moving_. Normally she would work together with her companions, but this time there were so many enemies, they got driven apart and she constantly lost them out of sight. She had to count on her own capacities. And so she fell back into routine, getting into a trance along the way. There would be no time or chance to use magic, it would take far too long to concentrate and tap into the Fade. She could only rely upon her daggers and the swiftness of her body. And so she kept twirling, thrusting and jolting. Around her people squealed and howled, bolts and arrows screamed, the clashing from steel upon steel crashed through the hall. Her breath became ragged, sweat started to pour into her eyes, her muscles burned. The trance she had worked herself into, began to unravel and she knew she couldn’t hold on much longer.

‘Some assistance would be appreciated,’ she heard Varric call out. She turned for the last time and found herself with her back against a wall. About five yards away from her, the dwarf had been cornered by three men. She reached for the throwing knife in her boot and hurled the weapon at one of the three, hitting him in the back of his neck. A moment later the other two were also put out of action, one by a crossbow bolt, the second by Isabela.

And then, to her astonishment, it was all over.

They were surrounded by at least twenty dead bodies. And who knows how many still living ones had fled the scene. The marble floor had turned red with blood and sallow with filth but they had won. Maker knew how.

Hawke desperately tried to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, panting heavily. For the second time she wondered if Meeran had tried to lure them into a trap but then again, what would he gain by that? She hadn’t thwarted him as far as she knew; nevertheless she was determined to confront him with this mess. At the first opportunity.

‘That went well,’ Isabela said cheerfully.

Hawke shook her head. Did nothing ever upset that woman? She looked up to see that the pirate was already looting the bodies. Yes, very – piraty. She looked further around to check if her other two comrades were also unharmed.

To her horror she saw Fenris sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall next to the stairs with his eyes closed. He looked very pale and was clutching his right shoulder with both hands; blood was spilling through his fingers. Jumping over bodies and slithering through gore, she was with him in a few moments; she dropped on her knees and stretched out her hand. His eyes flew open and he jolted back, almost trying to move through the wall to avoid her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he croaked.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Hawke said sternly. ‘You’re injured, let me take a look.’

‘No.’

Hawke sighed. ‘Fenris, you’re bleeding heavily, you need help.’

‘ _No_!’

Hawke stood up, her face a neutral mask. ‘Alright, have it your way. If you rather bleed to death than getting touched, be my guest.’ She started to walk away, counting in her head. _One ... two ... three_ ...

‘Hawke, wait.’

She smiled inwardly.

‘No magic,’ Fenris said hoarsely.

She turned back. ‘This must be your lucky day,’ she said in a mildly mocking tone while she again squatted next to him. ‘I don’t know anything about healing magic. Now let us get you out of that armour.’

‘No.’

‘You are getting repetitive,’ she said, slightly annoyed. ‘I can’t accomplish anything with all that spiky steel around you. Or do you expect me to examine you and patch you up _through_ it?’

Fenris let out a frustrated growl but started to unclasp his breastplate without further protests. Under it he wore his leather protection and without asking his permission Hawke unfastened the delicate buckles because his fingers were too slippery with blood. And probably not only his own. His last line of defence turned out to be a sleeveless linen shirt, momentarily drenched with blood, and he held on to that as if his life depended on it.

‘I didn’t know you were this prudish, but with Isabela around I suppose you are right with your precaution,’ Hawke chortled. Fenris glared daggers at her and suddenly she realized it had nothing to do with prudence but everything with his markings. She knew he wasn’t happy with those, to put it mildly, but now she started to wonder whether he was ashamed of them as well. She decided not to push her luck and so she drew the small razor sharp dagger she wore at her belt and made a cut in the fabric of his shirt to get better access to the wound. ‘I guess it will work this way,’ she said gently.

‘Varric,’ she called out to the dwarf without turning her head, ‘do me a favour and bring me my pack, will you.’ There was so much blood that at first she couldn’t estimate the gravity of the injury, but then she saw the blade had gone clean through his shoulder. She decided to cut the whole seam of his shirt on the top of his shoulder and at least he let her do it. She rummaged around in the pack Varric had brought over and retrieved a healing potion.

‘Let’s start with this,’ she said, uncorking the small bottle and placing it into Fenris’s hand. The elf swallowed the contents without complaining, although it tasted as if the liquid was scooped up out of some gutter. In the meantime Hawke tried to staunch the bleeding at his front, using a thick cotton cloth. ‘Hold this,’ she ordered and Fenris obediently did so, gradually getting too numb to protest against anything. She removed another cloth from her pack and pushed it firmly against the back of his shoulder. He clenched his jaws and almost succeeded in stifling a groan. ‘I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but I really have to try to stop the bleeding as fast as possible,’ Hawke said apologetically. He grumbled something incomprehensibly as response.

‘You come prepared,’ Varric remarked, partly amused and partly with admiration.

‘One has to when one has no magic healer available,’ Hawke answered dryly without taking her eyes off the elf. ‘We’ll wait a little while, until the potion kicks in.’ After a few minutes she removed the pieces of cloth and grunted satisfied. The bleeding had come to a halt.

‘Hawke,’ Isabela’s voice suddenly chimed, ‘I think you want to see this.’

‘In a moment,’ Marian answered. She started to apply a yellow coloured ointment from a little pot on both cuts. She froze when out of nowhere a silver item with a well known symbol started dangling before her eyes.

‘Looks familiar, doesn’t it?’ Isabela said softly into her ear, holding the silver chain to which the pendant was attached.

‘Bloody hell, not another one. What the fuck does this mean?!’ Hawke swallowed back a lot of other curses and took a deep breath. With great effort she succeeded to compose herself. ‘Okay. It can wait. First things first.’ She returned her attention to Fenris and dressed the wounds with a thick layer of linen bandages, trying hard to withhold her hands from trembling. ‘This is all I can do for now,’ she said when she was done. ‘Fortunately your lung isn’t punctured but you lost a lot of blood. Just wait here for a moment.’ Without waiting for a response she stood and turned to Isabela. ‘Where is the body you found that thing on?’

The pirate pointed out one of the corpses, lying roughly in the middle of the hall. It turned out to be a woman. But further investigation taught her nothing more than she already knew. The same plain armour as the first one had worn. No notes, no messages. Nothing significant.

‘This is the only pendant you have found?’

‘Yes, the others had nothing more on them than some cheep jewellery and a few coins.’

Hawke returned to Fenris. ‘Can you stand?’ The elf nodded and she helped him up. He swayed and she wanted to support him but he waved her off.

‘I’ll manage,’ he said gruffly. She couldn’t tell if he had noticed the consternation about yet another pendant. He had not reacted to it; he was probably too busy coping with pain and self-control.

‘Suit yourself,’ she responded airily but kept watching him closely. ‘At least let us walk you home, you’re not exactly at your best at the moment. Not that it is that far, but you never know.’ She picked up his breastplate and leathers, knowing for certain he would fall over if he tried to reach for them. Varric lifted the heavy sword from the floor with visible effort and handed it over to the elf who took it with his left hand. Without a word Fenris started moving to the exit of the mansion, his sword leaning over his uninjured shoulder. He was walking steadily, Hawke had to admit. She shrugged her shoulders.

‘I suppose that means a yes,’ she mumbled. ‘Isabela, be a lamb and carry my pack for the moment, will you?’

‘Of course _darling_. I guess the yelling and cussing will start after our handsome brooding elf is safely delivered home? I must say you sound a little creepy right now. Does it hurt to control yourself so forcefully?’

Hawke shot her a fiery glare, but was wise enough not to retort.

When they had reached Fenris’s door, she handed him his armour and hesitated for a moment.

‘I’ll be all right,’ Fenris grumbled while he pushed the front door open with his good shoulder. He stepped inside with one foot, lowered his sword and placed it against the wall. After that he dropped his armour on the floor. ‘I believe you have other things to bother about. Try not to drink too much Antivan brandy.’

So he had noticed.

‘Wait,’ Hawke said before he disappeared. She fished two other healing potions out of the pack Isabela was still holding and offered them to him. He accepted reluctantly and vanished through the door which he closed behind him with a low thud.

‘Well,’ Varric said, somewhat taken aback. ‘A “thank you” would have been nice.’

‘He felt vulnerable and exposed,’ Hawke said pensively. ‘He hates that.’

‘Let’s go to the Hanged Man,’ Isabela suggested. ‘I’m in desperate need of a drink.’

Hawke’s face changed from pensive into grim and resolute in less than a blink. ‘No. I want to search out Meeran and rattle his sorry bones till he spills the truth,’ she said in a menacing tone. ‘I don’t like this kind of set-ups.’

‘Yes, tomorrow sweetness,’ Isabela purred soothingly. ‘Tonight we drink.’

Hawke straightened her shoulders and looked furiously at the pirate. ‘We drink later, we’re going to rattle some bones right now,’ she hissed.

‘But it’s just the three of us and ...’ Varric started but Hawke had already stomped off in the direction of the docks. With a sigh he followed her, Isabela at his side.

‘Well, you know Hawke is a battalion all of her own when she’s angry. Who would be able to stop her?’ Isabela said, always the positive one.

‘I know I won’t,’ Varric muttered.

-

This time Meeran didn’t feel annoyed. This time he was terrified out of his mind. He was facing an extremely enraged Marian Hawke who, above all, held a dagger to his throat. The woman seemed to be covered in blood albeit not her own. No one could lose that much blood and still live, let alone hold his hair in such a fierce grip and push the point of a very sharp knife to his skin.

‘What the fuck were you thinking, to sic a Seeker on me, you bloody bastard!’ she growled, and for a moment Meeran was afraid she would bite his ear off.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he squeaked. ‘You must believe me!’ To his immense relief she removed the dagger and let go of his hair. She slammed a pendant on the table in front of him.

‘ _This_ is what I’m talking about. The symbol of the Seekers. That letter you sent me, was from one of them. The job was a trap. Now spill out all you know before I change my mind and strangle you with your own innards.’

Meeran took a quivering breath. He stared at the pendant. Only now it got through to him what Hawke had said. A Seeker. No wonder she was so upset. He looked up at her still very angry face. He noticed that the voluptuous pirate had taken a seat on the corner of his table, her crossed long legs nonchalantly dangling. She was ostensibly absent-mindedly playing with one of her daggers, but he wasn’t fooled by her demeanour. She would strike faster than a snake if he’d make one wrong move. The same counted for the dwarf who was at the moment leaning against a crate in a deceptively relaxed way.

‘Well?’ pressed Hawke impatiently.

‘I did not know that bloke was a Seeker, I really didn’t,’ Meeran said pleadingly. ‘I never would have sent you that letter if I had.’

Hawke raised her brows. ‘Bloke? Not a woman?’

Meeran shook his head. ‘Definitely not a woman. I didn’t get a good look at him though, he was covered in a long cloak. In fact I only saw his eyes.’ He shivered inwardly at the memory. ‘But if I’d known he was out to harm you, I never would have accepted his letter, honest,’ he added hastily. ‘What happened anyway?’

‘A lot of people trying to kill us, that happened. What did he say he wanted?’

‘He wanted to hire you for an assassination. He asked specifically for you because he said you were the best. But he never said his name. And we don’t ask for names. You know that!’Hawke seemed to be satisfied with his answer. She put the pendant back in her pocket and started pacing the room.

‘What do you know about Gascard DuPuis?’

Meeran felt a twang of fear. If that guy was involved, the situation became even more dangerous. ‘Gascard who?’ Something in his voice must have given him away because Hawke turned sharply to him.

‘Don’t play innocent with me, you’re not very good at it.’

The pirate began to throw her dagger from one hand to the other.

‘I, er, I believe he’s a mage,’ Meeran stuttered, feeling more intimidated by the minute. ‘Now and again he orders some goods.’

‘If you were planning to sell him body parts, don’t bother,’ the pirate piped up. ‘He’s got an entire room full of those now, all for free.’

‘Body parts?’ Meeran exclaimed in abhorrence. ‘That’s disgusting! No, he asked for special rare herbs and minerals. Most I never heard of. What’s he got to do with all this?’

Hawke had resumed her pacing. Meeran tried to follow her and at the same time keep an eye on the pirate and the dwarf. He felt a splitting headache beginning to rise at the back of his head.

‘We were supposed to murder him. I think you’re damn well aware he’s a necromancer.’ No use to deny, even if he hadn’t been aware of that particular creepy detail, so Meeran nodded obediently. ‘But what about a slaver enterprise?’ Now he was genuinely surprised.

‘He is dangerous enough, I know that much, but I can’t imagine he has something to do with that. He’s not even from Tevinter. He’s from Orlais! And no merchant whatsoever. Did you kill him, by the way?’

‘No.’ Hawke stopped in front of him and looked at him with an expression between rage and contempt. ‘I will leave you for now, but if you find anything out, you let me know. Understood?’ He nodded meekly. ‘And Meeran.’ He looked up. ‘You’re losing your touch. I would be very careful if I were you.’ At that she swept out of the room, followed by her companions.

The moment she was gone, Meeran jumped up and roared for his first captain. ‘Gather the men and all the stuff and equipment. We’re moving out.’

The man stared blank-faced at him. ‘Why? Where to?’

‘I don’t give a shit. Lowtown, Hightown, the Undercity as far as I care.’

He was not staying in this place one minute longer than necessary. A Seeker might find anyone he wanted to be found, he would make that job as difficult as possible for him.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And the mysterious Seeker makes an entrance, scattering more riddles around.
> 
> Poor Fenris, I know. How will he fare..?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning in advance: there will be a hint at sex. Nothing too explicit - yet.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 7

-

The moment they reached the quay outside the Red Iron’s headquarters, Isabela grabbed Hawke’s arm and began to drag her along, stubbornly ignoring her strong protests.

‘I don’t care how angry you are. Your bluff worked with Meeran – ‘

‘That was no bluff,’ Hawke snarled, still wrapped in the heat of her rage.

‘Even worse. You acted like an iceberg back in there, well done, but you’ll erupt like a volcano in no time. Or rather you’ve been the eye of the tornado and between now and a few moments you will want to swoop down on everything and everyone and devastate all in range of at least ten miles,’ Isabela frantically babbled, all the while pulling an unwilling Hawke along. ‘That includes this whole city.’

They almost bumped into a party of men while rounding a corner. One of the men whistled appreciatively at them and Hawke reached automatically for her daggers. Isabela yanked her arm down.

‘You come with me before you start a big row with those losers, or the Carta or the Coterie, and leave us dead on this quay or in the water. You need a drink to calm down.’

‘Are you done talking yet?’ Hawke growled, not in the mood for common sense.

‘Not if it means I have to protect you and Varric and me from getting gutted.’

By now they had reached the top of the stairs leading from the Docks to Lowtown. Hawke forced Isabela to a halt. She wanted to scold her, hit her, stab her if need be, but she was too busy to collect herself. The two women looked at each other, both tense and both slightly out of breath. Hawke’s mouth began to twitch; she pressed her lips together, trying to avoid the irritating motion but she couldn’t stop it. Out of the sudden they both burst out laughing at the same time. It was as if a dark spell got lifted.

‘I really showed him, didn’t I,’ Hawke guffawed.

‘You did, sweetness,’ Isabela hooted. ‘You should have seen his face!’

‘I did, I did. Maker, I thought he would piss himself!’

‘I swear he did.’ Tears were rolling down the pirate’s cheeks by now.

‘And to think I worked for that weasel for a year. I should have done this at the start!’ Hawke whooped.

‘ _You_ would have been the one ruling the Red Iron by now.’ Isabela almost fell over with laughter. She had to sit down on the steps and hold on to her stomach. ‘O Andraste’s steaming tears, my poor belly!’

Hawke sat down next to her, equally not being able to stand on her feet. ‘Let’s wait for Varric to catch up with us,’ she finally managed.

‘Indeed. Those short dwarven legs can’t run that fast,’ Isabela giggled. ‘Did I say run? I meant scurry.’ And she went into another fit of hysterical laughter.

‘I heard that,’ Varric objected when he had reached the same level.

‘Don’t think wrong of it, I think it’s cute,’ Isabela chuckled, wiping the tears out of her eyes. ‘If you weren’t spoken for by Bianca, I would have you any time.’

The dwarf looked at the two of them, both with shining eyes, filled with merriment that somehow seemed sinful. ‘Women,’ he muttered despondently. ‘Don’t listen to them, Bianca, they’ll only give you bad advice.’

‘She’s a woman too,’ Marian pointed out, desperately holding on to Isabela and trying not to roll down the stairs.

‘Even more dangerous to let her get in touch with the two of you ,’ Varric tartly said, viciously defending the love of his life. ‘She would only get nasty ideas.’

‘Come on Hawke, let’s get drunk, and leave Varric to his sharp and demanding lover,’ Isabela sniggered, once again taking Hawke’s arm had hauling her along to the Hanged Man.

-

But Hawke didn’t drink much. After the euphoria of successfully threatening Meeran had evaporated, she sank back into contemplation. Why for the Maker’s sake was she wanted by Seekers? Did they know she was a mage? But then again, if so why did they bother? Hunting down and turning in apostates was the work of Templars. What was so damn important about her that the Seekers wanted to catch her themselves? She couldn’t find an answer and in the end decided to let it go for the moment. There was nothing she could do about it at this time of night anyway.

After she had rinsed away the most of the blood in the small washing room at the back of the Hanged Man, she now sat nursing her mug of ale at the table in Varric’s suite, ruminating on the occurrences of the past evening. Now she had decided to let the whole Seeker question rest for the moment, her thoughts swirled back to Fenris. At first she had assumed that his reaction of rejecting her help was born out of stubbornness, then because he was angry, with her meddling or even with himself for getting hit. But while she was mulling over the way how he had responded to the whole situation, she came to the conclusion that he hadn’t looked angry at all. No, the emotion in his eyes had been fear, or better outright panic. Suddenly she grew extremely mad, not with him but with his former master. What had that monster done to him that he was so scared of being touched? That he even had considered death over it? It had been just a few moments, _three short counts_ , but awfully long moments at that; just the mere thought that he really had considered the option, shocked her to the core. And now she got furious with herself. She should have known. No, she couldn’t begin to fathom what he had gone through at the hands of that Magister, but the little information he had given away and especially his rigid attitude towards magic, should have warned her. She simply had assumed that he suffered from an overdose of pride in combination with an extreme distrust with the whole of mankind. What an arrogant twit she had been. Indeed, she wasn’t able to understand his anguish and torment, but the least she could have done, was trying to be considerate. After all, her father had told her enough about the brutalities of the Tevinter Magisters. She wanted to slap herself.

He had touched her before, but that had been his choice. _He_ had touched _her_. She still could feel his thumb lingering on the palm of her hand, his fingers intertwined with hers. Even now the sheer memory made her shiver. And it had made her presume that despite his shocked, if not horrified ( _or perhaps scared_?) reaction when she had stumbled into his room and had grabbed his arm when she was about to lose her equilibrium, touching wasn’t as bad for him as he had made her believe at that moment. Be it literally or figuratively. But this time he had been hurt. And frightened. She should have known better. Of course, in that situation he would have associated touch with pain. Stupid, ignorant fool she had been.

‘At this pace you will find great difficulty at getting drunk, sweetness,’ Isabela dragged her out of her dark thoughts.

‘I don’t plan on getting drunk,’ Hawke grimly replied. ‘Not tonight. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow and I intend to start early.’

‘Like checking on a certain elf,’ Varric grinned broadly. ‘Don’t worry Hawke, he won’t die just like that. He’s a tough one.’

 _On the outside, surely_ , Hawke thought, _the rest though_ ...

‘I know,’ she said instead, ‘but he is my patient now and I’m responsible for his wellbeing.’

The dwarf studied her face but decided to give no further comments. Isabela on the other hand smiled devilishly, saying, ‘Just give him the _good_ treatment, Hawke.’

Marian didn’t even bother with a reaction. She just took a small sip of her ale.

-

Fenris woke up, drenched with sweat and burning with fever. He tried to sit and a bolt of scorching pain shot through his right shoulder. His head started to spin and with a loud groan he fell back on the soaked sheets, igniting even more pain. He tried to breathe deeply and after a couple of minutes his banging heart had slowed down and his head had stopped reeling. Again, he attempted to get up, this time more cautiously, and finally he found himself standing on two legs next to his bed, with his left hand leaning against the wall till he decided he could do without the support. He shuffled through the room, holding on to the furniture, until he reached the flight of steps and stumbled downstairs to the washing room behind the kitchen, all the time cursing under his breath. What the hell had happened? Why did he feel so, so mangled? Like being crushed between an anvil and an ogre? Slowly his memory returned while he relieved himself in the cracked lavatory pot. It came in fragments and still left a lot of blanks, but at least he had something to cling to. He had been fighting and got skewered by a blade of some kind. He had never seen the blasted attack coming. Stupid.

He went back to the kitchen, almost tripping over his own feet, and bounced against the kitchen table. His right hand automatically shot out to maintain his balance and it was all he could do to cut down a scream of agony when red-hot pain engulfed him. _Venhedis_! He waited until the pain had decreased somewhat and then tried to operate the water pump with his left arm. After some effort, he had filled a cup with water and drained it in one thirsty gulp. Only now he noticed he had removed his gauntlets and tights and changed the bloodied undershirt for a loose tunic. He even had cleaned himself somewhat, but how in the world he had managed all that, he couldn’t remember. He mustered his courage to commence the journey back to his room. He staggered upstairs, all the way clutching the banister as if the bloody thing was his closest friend, and finally he reached his goal where he collapsed in a chair, completely exhausted. At first his body felt heated as if a fire was raging through it, but after a while he became stone cold and he realized the fire in the hearth had extinguished. It might be spring, but the mornings were still icy cold. This was not Tevinter, let be Seheron. He was too drained to do something about the non-existing fire. He closed his eyes, leaned carefully back and hoped with all his might that he would drift off into unconsciousness. His eyelids fell shut.

_She was standing before him, smiling at him. He reached out for her and she took his hand. ‘I know what you want,’ she whispered. She led his hand to her bared breasts. He closed his eyes and touched her soft, tender and yet firm flesh. He heard her sigh. His fingers found a hard nipple and he tweaked softly. The nipple hardened some more. This time she moaned. The wanting sound of her low voice, together with the warm presence of her body so close by, mesmerised him. Once again she took his hand. He felt her hold on his fingers and trace them down her flat stomach only to whisper through the curly feminine triangle to pass to her smooth inner thighs. By now she breathed heavily. He found he did the same. She let go of his hand and his fingers now found their own way, hesitantly ending at her drenched entrance, feeling her desire, feeling his own, but not knowing right now how to continue. She encouraged him by pulling him close to her and embracing him forcefully. He realized by now she wasn’t standing at all; they were both lying naked on his bed. He kissed her intensely while kneeling between her legs. Suddenly he knew what to do. His lips moved away from her inviting mouth, tasting of the hot, moist summer days he for some reason remembered fondly; they trailed along her neck and collarbone, kissing every inch of skin. And then he entered her. She gasped loudly, making him feel even more aroused, and after a few heartbeats she began to move with the rhythm he had started. She murmured his name ..._

He woke with a start. The feverish dream hung on for a moment and then slowly began to dissolve. He didn’t even know if he wanted to cling on to it. He felt confused and alarmed; it had been highly disturbing to say the least of it. Then he heard the front door creak open. _Damn it, this would be the perfect time for Danarius to come for me,_ he thought in paranoid panic. But immediately after that, he recognised Hawke’s footsteps and calmed down. The last images of his dream disappeared.

She entered the room and saw him sagged in the chair, looking worn out and at the end of his tether. She put the bag and large bundle of cloth she carried with her on the table and moved towards him.

‘You don’t look all too well,’ she greeted him.

‘I look exactly as I feel,’ he grunted gravelly, watching her through bleary eyes.

She smiled. ‘I was afraid for that,’ she said and laid a cool hand on his hot forehead before he got time to wince or move away. He closed his eyes at the contact. To his amazement it didn’t hurt, it felt good. But then again, there was no lyrium infused into his forehead. He couldn’t recall whether her touch had hurt him the night before, but there had been so much pain already that he wouldn’t have been able to feel the difference. And he remembered that the contact with her hand, days earlier, hadn’t hurt him. On the contrary. _No, don’t go there. Not again. Not now._ His eyes shot open when she spoke again.

‘Do you think you can down this?’ she asked, holding out a potion. He tried to grab the little bottle but due to his former exertions his fingers trembled too much to get a proper grip. Without any comment, she held the bottle against his lips and supported the back of his head.

‘I know it tastes awful,’ she said in an apologizing tone. ‘I’ve added honey and mint but the tang of elfroot is very forceful. Sorry.’

He didn’t answer, just concentrated on swallowing which was difficult enough. He wondered now how he had ever managed to get to the kitchen and back, he felt weak as a new born child.

Finally, he had drunk all the liquid and she removed the phial, putting it back on the table. After that she turned her attention to the hearth where just a few embers were still glowing. Within a couple of minutes, she had a fire roaring, and not by using magic, he observed drowsily. Warmth rapidly started to spread through the room. It felt wonderful.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Hawke’s voice sounded again. ‘Just getting some water.’ She smiled at him before she disappeared through the door. He stared after her. She had a very sweet smile, he mused, had he ever noticed that before? He must have. Again, she left a trace of rosemary and he tried to inhale the scent as long as possible. The healing potion started to work and now he felt like he was inebriated instead of being smashed to bits. Quite an improvement. She had held his head. Had it hurt? He couldn’t say and after some tiresome moments he gave up.

Hawke returned, carrying two filled buckets. She put them down at each side of his chair and looked at him, biting her lip. ‘I see you have changed your shirt,’ she said carefully. ‘Very wise.’

‘I’m not sure wisdom had anything to do with it,’ he replied. To his relief his voice sounded normal again. ‘To be honest, I can’t remember doing it.’

‘Would you mind very much taking it off?’ Hawke asked. And yes, that panicky look returned as she had already feared. ‘It will be very hard to redress your injuries if you don’t.’ She continued, as reassuringly as she could, ‘It’s just the two of us this time. Do you trust me?’

No, he didn’t trust her. Yes, he did. He didn’t know. Did he have a choice anyway? His wound throbbed and he knew damn well something had to be done about it. He gave in and started to fumble with the hem of his tunic, very soon realizing he could not do this, not with just one still shaking hand. Without uttering a word, she assisted him, slowly and tenderly. He braced himself against her reaction. There would be gasping, there would be prying eyes, there would be disgusted looks – there was just silence and, when he dared to take a peek, a reassuring smile. He let out the breath he had been holding in without even being conscious about it. He couldn’t help himself. ‘No comment? I must look very – strange to you. Repulsive,’ he stammered.

‘No Fenris. At the very most exotic. But as a matter of fact, you look beautiful,’ Hawke responded calmly, leaving him utterly puzzled and gobsmacked. He had always hated his markings, thinking they marred and blemished him, and she thought him to be beautiful? She must be out of her mind. But he had no time to contemplate this riddle any longer for she started to remove his bandages. He gritted his teeth, anticipating her unavailable touch and the harsh stings that would inflict. _Her_ contact with _him_. Not his choice. Not her warm hand ... _damn_.

But her nimble and gentle fingers didn’t hurt him, not even when they brushed over the lyrium brands. It felt like a soothing and calming balm, warm and cooling at the same time. He flinched in surprise and she immediately removed her hands from his skin.

‘Did I hurt you?’ she asked with great concern.

‘No,’ he breathed. How could he ever explain this to her? How could he even start to make clear that as long he could remember, being touched was the same as being punished? How that he with the best of his will couldn’t understand why she brought him comfort instead of ache? After a short hesitation, she restarted her ministrations and he closed his eyes, revelling in the wonderful sensation her soft hands caused him. He wished she’d never stop. He wanted to cry.

Finally she was finished. ‘Hmm, this doesn’t look too bad,’ she said, bringing him back to reality. ‘It’s not infected anyway, although I don’t know what you’ve been doing to start to bleed again.’

‘Just an expedition into the kitchen,’ he retorted, making her laugh.

‘I’ll have to wash it out, it may hurt I’m afraid.’ The concern in her voice made a reappearance.

‘No,’ he said dreamily, ‘your hands don’t hurt.’

Her heart skipped a beat. Did she hear that right? Had he meant it? He must have, considering the near heavenly look upon his face. Maker, she hadn’t caused him pain, on the contrary in fact. It almost brought her to tears but she restrained herself. _You’re_ _not some ignorant waif. Concentrate on what you are doing. You are trying to heal him, that’s important right now_. She reached for her bag and took out a clean rag. She soaked it with the lukewarm water from one of the buckets, wrung it out and started to bathe his injuries as tenderly as she could. She had to rinse the fabric and repeat all her actions a few times before she was satisfied. The water had turned to red by then. Then she took another piece of cloth and reached for the second bucket still holding fresh water and began to wash him. She started with his face, moved down to his neck, arms and then his back and torso.

‘What are you doing?’ Fenris asked flustered.

‘Cleaning you, what else? You are covered in sweat and dirt, we can’t have that. Wounds need a hygienic environment to heal.’

‘You seem to know a lot about healing,’ he said, desperately trying to hide his confusion, especially now it was his legs’ turn. Only at this moment he realized that he was sitting in just his smallclothes in the presence of a lovely woman. Fragments of his feverish dream returned and he bit his lip hard to control himself. She pretended to take no notice.

‘Like I said before, I lack the talent of a healing mage. So, I decided to qualify myself in the conventional art. It turned out I had quite a knack for it. I make my own potions and salves. Back in Ferelden, I grew the ingredients in the garden. I must buy them in the market now, of course, but it still pays out. Besides that, I believe they’re better than the ready-mades. Let’s say it’s useful to know how to heal, don’t you?’

Fenris hummed his agreement.

‘I’m done,’ Hawke declared after finishing washing his feet. She dropped the rag back into the bucket and stood up. She treated his wounds with one of her apparently home-made ointments and packed him again in linen bandages.

‘Do you make those yourself also?’ he teased her.

This time she laughed out loud which he enjoyed very much. It made him think of a welcome rain shower after a hot day.

‘No, I have neither the skill nor the time for that! But I have a very good address.’

Still grinning she went back to the table and untied the bundle of cloth. She produced a clean shirt and handed it over to him. ‘It belongs to my brother,’ she declared, ‘but I doubt he will miss it. As you know he’s a tall lad so it will be a bit too large for you, but it’ll do. You need help with putting it on?’

‘I think I’ll manage,’ he said and this time it wasn’t said out of pride or naked fear. Her treatment had made him feel a lot better, he had to admit. While he was struggling with the shirt, she ripped the sheets and blankets of his bed.

‘You don’t like them?’

Hawke chortled. ‘They are soaked, Fenris. Soaked, stained, dusty. To say it bluntly, they are outright filthy. Remember what I said about hygiene.’ She looked around and sighed. ‘This whole room is a grubby nest. This whole _mansion_ is. It’s your choice to keep it in this state, of course, but I insist in giving you a clean bed to recover in.’

The bundle on the table revealed knew items like clean sheets and pillowcases and a brand new fresh smelling blanket. And a new pillow at that.

‘You sound like a nursemaid,’ Fenris complained but he didn’t mean it. He was just mesmerised and didn’t know how to express his gratitude. It didn’t help he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment at all and didn’t know how to react to it. It helped even less he still felt odd and light-headed.

‘Not your nursemaid, your physician,’ she said sternly but smiled at the same time. She helped him getting into his bed. He felt annoyed he still needed her assistance, but when he leaned back into the new and very clean pillows, he realized how tired he was. The pain and fever might have subsided, but still his injury, and, more important, the aftermath of the severe loss of blood, made him more brittle than he had presumed. He let out a big sigh.

‘Feeling better?’ she asked. He just nodded. ‘Try to get some sleep. I’m going to see Aveline but I’ll return afterwards.’

He had already drifted off before she had left the room.

-

Marian entered Aveline’s office with a heavy heart. A Hightown mansion filled with blood and corpses hadn’t escaped the attention of the City Guard, and of course the redhead Captain had made the link between a lot of dead people and Hawke. She had sent one of her guards to Gamlen’s house first thing in the morning to summon Hawke to the Keep. Luckily Marian had caught the woman before her family had got air of it. She’d never heard the end of it otherwise. She had ignored that call in so far, that she first had paid a short visit to the Lowtown bathhouse to lose the last traces of gore and filth, and then had gone to Fenris because she’d deemed that more important. She hoped Aveline would show some understanding once she had explained the situation.

‘I sent for you hours ago,’ the Guard Captain spat, very angrily. ‘Why the hell do you turn up only now?!’

‘Because Fenris got severely injured last night and I had to check on him,’ Hawke clarified, while sitting down in the chair on the opposite side of Aveline’s desk.

‘Have I given you permission to sit?’ the Captain snapped.

‘Stop that, Aveline, I’m not one of your guardsmen,’ Hawke shot back with sudden flaming eyes.

Aveline thumped the desk. ‘Early this morning, I received a report about a massacre in the DuPuis mansion. One of the noble neighbours had heard a lot of noise and shouting somewhere during the night, and decided to take a look at daybreak. You can imagine his reaction when he came across the butchery.’ She paused for a moment, taking in Hawke’s perfectly blank face. ‘After he was done vomiting, he came running to the Keep. He didn’t even bother with _me_ , he went straight to the Viscount, screaming like a stock pig, yelling about the disgrace to the neighbourhood and the incompetence of the Guard. You can imagine the Viscount’s reaction. And of course, he didn’t address me personally, the coward, but sent Seneschal Bran.’ It was all Hawke could do not to wince in sympathy. ‘I know we already rooted out the gang terrorizing Hightown, so I came to the one conclusion possible. Damn it, Hawke. What did you think you were doing?!’

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘Are you done ranting yet? Look, I’m sorry about the whole situation, especially about the Seneschal Bran gloating business, but just shut up for a few moments to let me explain.’

‘I’m dying to hear your version of the story,’ Aveline said sarcastically. But at least she was willing to listen.

‘We thought we were going to kill one Gascard DuPuis, who is apparently known as a dangerous necromancer, of which I’m as good as sure, and as a slaver as well, although that I’m not so certain about. But it turned out we were lured into a trap.’ At this point she showed Aveline the pendant Isabela had found, and the Guard Captain stared at it with immediate concern.

‘Another Seeker?’ she said after a while. ‘Or _the_ other Seeker?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Hawke replied. And then she told Aveline about her entertaining talk with Meeran and everything else that had transpired last night.

The Guard Captain let out a heavy breath. ‘So, summarizing, we have two dead women wearing a pendant of the Seekers, a mystery man who so called hired you to take care of a necromancer and perhaps slaver, but instead led you into a room full of would-be killers, plus one undoubtedly by now scared to death mercenary. And how am I supposed to explain all this to the Viscount?’ she groaned.

‘Don’t,’ Hawke suggested, ‘you already had Bran triumphing over you, what’s the worst that can happen now?’

Aveline produced a very thin smile. ‘Very little, I’ll give you that. How is Fenris doing by the way?’

‘He is sleeping right now but he’ll recover. I’ll return to him shortly,’ Hawke replied, staring into the distance. ‘You know, the longer I’m thinking about it, the more I tend to believe those two women weren’t Seekers at all,’ she said musingly, absentmindedly chewing on a finger. ‘At least, not _real_ Seekers. That man that turned to Meeran to hire me though ...’

‘You think he is some kind of mastermind, that he concocted the failed assault on your house and the unsuccessful trap in that Hightown mansion?’

Hawke rested her elbow on the desk and her head in her hand. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. I think he definitely holds a lot of answers. He could be the Seeker we’re looking for. And what I would very much like to know, is why he is after me. And how to find him to confront him with all our unanswered questions.’

Aveline contemplated this for some moments. ‘Does Meeran know you’re a mage?’

Hawke shook her head. ‘No he doesn’t. But even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He would hire an ogre if he thought it would be useful.’ She grinned slyly. ‘He would, of course, immediately turn over the ogre to anyone who offered money or threatened him. But again, as far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know I’m a mage. Unless Carver has told him about it.’

‘Do you think your brother would do such a thing?’ Aveline sounded very worried at this question.

‘No,’ Hawke resolutely said. ‘He may be an asshole most of the time, but he would not give me away. He knows the value of family.’

Aveline snorted irritably. ‘So we haven’t made progress one bit.’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Hawke sighed. ‘We’ll have to keep our eyes open, watch for stabs in the back and hope to find a clue that will bring us further. Next time I receive a letter, I will think twice. Or at least be more careful and look behind the message.’ With a little grin she added, ‘Again, I offer my condolences about the Seneschal.’ She rose from the chair. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll go back to Fenris now, to see how he is doing.’

Aveline nodded, suppressing a smile that fought a way to her lips despite herself. ‘You do that. I’ll inform you at the very moment I’ll find out something useful.’

Hawke smiled apologetically at the Guard Captain. ‘I’m sorry I have dragged you into this. I could kick Bran into the nuts if that makes you feel better. I scared the living daylight out of Meeran last night; I could do the same to him.’

Now Aveline couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘I would pay to see that, but appealing as it sounds, I don’t think that will be a good idea. Just go check on the elf, Hawke.’

Marian had a lot to think about when she left the Keep and descended the stairs.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feverish Fenris is a very sweet Fenris. Well, I thought so.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And a non-feverish Fenris can react like an attacked wolf ...  
>  Don't worry, it won't be that bad. In the end he will act like some kind of hero.
> 
> And another clue pops up. A rather nasty one.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 8

-

This time when he woke up, Fenris felt a lot better. The fever had disappeared and the pain in his shoulder had reduced to just a somewhat itching feeling. That was good. The lyrium had done it's work and, no matter how much he hated the markings, he couldn't ignore that they speeded up his healing. As usual. Less pleasant was the fact that there was now more opportunity for contemplation, and he knew from experience that contemplating led to difficult questions with at the best complicated answers and almost inevitable dark thoughts. He got out of bed and went over to the hearth. He prodded into the fire with the poker, thinking about what had happened, staring absent-mindedly into the crackling flames. He realized he had been extremely vulnerable this morning and even worse, vulnerable in the presence of a mage. But this mage had not taken any advantage of his fragile condition, he had to give her that. As far as he had been able to perceive, she hadn't used magic at all, not even to relight the fire. Let alone to control him. He ran a hand through his hair. He saw now he was still wearing not much more than his underclothes and he started looking for his tights. He found them under the table, Maker knew how they had ended up there, and put them on. All the while his thoughts kept running through his head.

Or had she, without him being aware of ... He shook his head. Yes, she had touched him and no, it had not inflicted any pain, but he was certain he would have noticed if magic had been involved. He smiled grimly. It certainly would have been the first time magic hadn't caused him any harm. So, at this point he was willing to conclude that magic was not the issue – for the time being. He moved to the window and gazed outside without seeing much. Next problem. He absolutely could not understand why she put so much effort in trying to heal him. Was that her normal behaviour? Would she go through so much trouble for everyone who suffered an injury? And why the hell should he be bothered by that anyway? He let out a frustrated grunt and then he saw her climbing the last steps of the stairs leading to the Chantry courtyard, walking in her determined and o so elegant way. She was carrying something but from this distance he couldn't make out what. For a brief moment, his breath hitched and his heart picked up a pace. Automatically he moved back from the window. _Venhedis_! If he weren't careful, he would start to act like some lovesick puppy. He huffed angrily. Benefit of the doubt indeed. And up till now he also succeeded tremendously in keeping his distance. He should have sent her away, injury or no. He should still send her away the very minute she would walk through that door, tell her ...

And then she stood in his room and he just watched her without being able to utter a word.

'You definitely look a whole lot better than the first time I came here this day,' she said with a radiant smile. 'I brought you something to eat.'

Fenris cleared his throat. 'You seem to make a habit out of feeding me. ' _Lovesick puppy, waiting for scraps_ ...

'Well, you were hardly able to go to the market yourself and I passed there on my way from the Keep, so I decided to buy some food. Aren't you hungry? I know I am.'

Her smile faltered a little, feeling his aloof attitude no doubt. She put the bread and cheese she carried with her on the table. 'I could make some coffee or tea if you like.'

He cleared his throat once again. 'Why are you doing this, Hawke?'

She looked incomprehensively at him. 'Doing what?'

Fenris made a broad gesture with his arm that included his very clean bed, the food on the table and even the hearth where she had unmagically lit a fire this morning. 'Caring for me the way you do.'

‘Is that a problem? Would you rather I had let you bleed to death?' _For three short counts you did, you damn elf_. 'Or had let you suffer from pain and cold in that chair I found you in?'

He noticed some degree of irritation had crept into her voice. 'I, er, I don't know,' he murmured. He caught the confused, almost hurt look in her sapphire eyes. 'No, of course not,' he hastened to say. 'It just ... it baffles me.'

'Considering the way you have been treated all your life, it doesn't baffle me at all,' she reacted and now there was definitely a sting in her tone. 'But if it makes you feel better, you got wounded while fighting for my benefit, so I owe you one.' She paused, biting her lip, and then blurted out words that hit him like a sledgehammer. 'To be honest, when you insisted you didn't wanted to be touched back in that mansion, I got the impression you preferred death over any physical contact with a human being.'

The moment she uttered the sentence, she saw his eyes widen in shock. She clenched her fists and drove her nails into her palms. _Why did you say that? Way to go, just remind him of his rotten past with a mental whack around his ears. Stupid stupid stupid_ ... 'I'm not expecting gratitude, if that's what you're thinking, or anything else,’ she frantically prattled on. ‘I don't know what you had to endure from that, that ... and yes I'm a mage but I ...' This stuttered poor excuse for an explanation wasn't making things better, she realized when she saw his markings light up.

'Don't go there, Hawke,' he warned her, his voice low and threatening. 'I won't take responsibility for what happens if you push this. So, again. Don't. Go. There.'

Her first impulse was to erupt with anger; actually, she wanted to fly at him but at the last moment she inhaled sharply and raised both her hands as if to ward him off, although in fact she was trying to regain her calm. What had she expected? That he would throw his arms around her neck? Fall on his knees out of sheer gratefulness? Frankly, that would have disconcerted her more than this attitude. She should have known that a recovered Fenris would behave like the old one and not like the feverish elf who had let her touch him with no rejection to speak of. And she had; she just hadn't thought he would recover this fast. And now she went and spoiled everything she had accomplished this morning. Damn, it wasn't easy to cope with him, to say the least about it.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that,' she sighed. She looked at him with sad eyes and didn't even smile to try to repair the damage. 'I think it's best that I take my leave. Your breakfast is on the table,' she added with a limp gesture.

All kinds of feelings were stirring inside him. It started with rage, caused by her words, which changed into confusion after he realized she was genuinely distressed; soon after that he felt remorse over his harsh reaction and finally guilt reared its head. He tried to reject it, to hold on to the anger but he failed. His markings stopped glowing. Yes, he had succeeded in regaining his distance, well done. And by doing so he had hurt her. Even more brilliant. Just what she deserved, punish her for the kindness she showed you. _Just go chase away the only person you don't entirely trust among all the others you don't trust at all, you complete jackass. Do something!_

And thus, without thinking further, he moved to her, took her hand, held it firmly for a heartbeat and dropped it again.

'There. Touch. Happy now?'

He had to admit it almost felt liberating. He took in her mesmerized gaze and smiled crookedly. ’Everything about Danarius and my past is – painful,' he said. 'I tend to react strongly to it, I'm afraid.'

'So I noticed,' she mumbled, still taken aback.

He withstood the urge to take her hand once more. _Don't overdo it_. 'I have a proposition for you,' he resumed. 'You try not to bring it up and I will try not to get angry when you accidently do.'

She nodded. 'I can live with that, for now. Just one more thing before we end this subject.' Fenris raised one brow which sent a shiver down her spine. 'Do you really have to ignite your markings every time you get upset? It's fairly intimidating.'

He chuckled lowly which made her shiver some more. 'I'm afraid there is not much I can do about it. So, I should get used to it if I were you, because I don't think this is the last argument we'll be having.'

Definitely not.

-

Two days later Hawke got hauled out of her sleep early in the morning for the second time by a loud banging on the front door.

'O bloody hell, what's a girl to do to get a decent night of sleep around here,' she grunted while she dragged herself out of bed and to the door. In the meantime, she snarled at Alrond, who was happily adding to the racket, to shut up. Not surprisingly her mother and uncle pretended not to hear anything and her brother wasn't even at home. She came across the same guardswoman as the last time.

'I'm very sorry to wake you up again, Serah Hawke, but the Captain says it's important.'

Hawke rubbed her face. 'Of course,' she yawned. 'If the Captain says it's important then it can't wait another minute.' The sarcasm didn't get through to the guardswoman. 'Just give me a moment to get dressed.'

Aveline was already waiting for her in the hall of the Keep.

'I think you want to see this, Hawke,' she said and started to walk in the direction of the dungeons.

'I truly hope so,' Hawke grumbled, not being in the best of moods to start with, and descending to the cold, gloomy and somewhat sinister dungeons didn't add to her temper. 'You know, I was actually having a dream about getting an undisturbed night and I – holy shit.'

Aveline had unlocked a heavy door and pushed the complaining Hawke over the threshold. She was staring at a well-known body. 'I'm almost inclined to say "the poor sod",' she muttered, taken by surprise, a quite nasty surprise at that. 'Where did you find him?'

'One of my guardsmen stumbled upon him at the entrance of the Blooming Rose not an hour ago.'

'Really?'

'He was on patrol,' Aveline snapped viciously. 'I assume it's not your work?'

Hawke looked up. 'Do you have to ask that? I take it you know this is not my style,' she said indignantly. 'I may have disliked the son of a bitch but that doesn't mean I'd murder him ... by slitting his throat no less. You've searched the body?'

'Of course we have.'

'Any chance of pendants lying about? I'm thinking of starting to collect them.'

'Will you cut the crap and start to take this seriously?' the Guard Captain barked impatiently. 'This is a grave matter and I doubt not for a second your Seekers are involved.'

' _My_ Seekers? My, I'm moving up in the world. Alright, alright,' Hawke said hastily when Aveline began to look as if she would explode. 'Just give me the chance to recuperate. A cup of coffee would certainly help.'

Not much later they sat at the desk in Aveline's office, both with a steaming mug in their hands.

'I'm afraid Meeran signed his death warrant the moment he accepted that letter,' Aveline said.

'I think he would have been dead days earlier if he had declined it, ' Hawke replied. 'Didn't you find anything useful upon him at all?'

Aveline shook her head. 'The only clue we have is that he is killed with a serrated blade, considering how ragged the wound looked. It's not a weapon that is popular among mercenaries. You implied the mysterious man who visited Meeran could be a Seeker, or _the_ Seeker. I think he wants to cover up his tracks. Thoroughly and mercilessly.' She was silent for a few moments and then said, 'Hawke, I think you have to move out of your house. All of you. You're not safe there any longer.'

Hawke almost dropped her mug. 'Have you gone mad? And where do you suggest we should go?!'

'I don't know. The Hanged Man perhaps?'

'O yes,' Hawke scoffed, 'my mother will be so pleased when I tell her she's going to live in the tavern she despises! I can already see her face and hear her scream. I might as well announce the sewers aren't half as bad as they seem and would make for a lovely home.'

Aveline imagined Leandra's reaction and almost took pity on Hawke. Instead she pressed on. 'Hawke, listen. They've tried to burst into your home once before, they tried to kill you in a trap and now they have murdered Meeran. I fear the next they will do, is go after your family.'

'You forget about Alrond, he will defend them when I'm not around,' Hawke said stubbornly.

'Yes, and they know about him now. They will take measures against him, I'm sure.'

'So you suggest we go to a place with lots of people to betray us and even more to be potential victims.'

Aveline groaned frustrated. 'And lots of people to blend in and raise the alarm if need arises. If you want to hide, do it in a crowd; you will be least noticed and most safe.'

Hawke put the mug on the desk and started to follow the grain of the wood with a finger. She didn't want to agree with the Guard Captain, although in her heart she knew she was right. She decided it could wait. 'Have you discovered anything about that Gascard DuPuis yet?'

Aveline observed her friend for a moment, contemplating if she should cuff her to let reality hit home. But she didn't, merely because she knew it would have the opposite effect. 'As a matter of fact we did. He is indeed from Orlais as Meeran already claimed. But, as far as we were able to find out, he hasn't been in Kirkwall for over a year.'

'For over a year?' Hawke leaned back and folded her arms. 'So that "I have personal motivations to see him killed" was total bullshit.'

'Does that surprise you?'

Hawke scratched the back of her head. 'Not any longer, no. Our mysterious Seeker probably doesn't even know the man and just used his name because the mansion was conveniently empty to set up a trap. Ugh. What a mess.'

'You can say that again.'

'Perhaps I can use my connections with the Red Iron to make some inquiries,' Hawke said thoughtfully.

'I was hoping you would.'

'But I can't promise I'll get results.'

'Of course not, but every little bit may help. And Hawke, I'm serious about you moving out of that house.'

Marian shot her a tired look. 'I'll think about it, alright?'

'Don't think too long, Hawke, or it might be too late.'

-

Hawke entered Varric's suite in the Hanged Man to find the dwarf ferociously scribbling on a piece of vellum, only to scratch out the written words moments later. A blob of ink fell from his quill, smudging the parchment. Isabela lounged in a chair on the other side of the table, her booted feet resting on the surface as usual. She was looking bored. Varric cursed under his breath.

'What's wrong? Things not going well with the epic love story?' Hawke informed sweetly.

Varric looked up and grumbled, 'This is supposed to turn into a letter to the dwarven Merchants Guild. But since I dislike writing letters and hate the Guild, I simply can't put my thoughts into it. Have a seat Hawke. And a drink.' He nodded in the direction of the large pitcher on the table, surrounded by several mugs. He dipped his quill into the inkwell, hesitated and decided to leave it there. He crumpled the piece of vellum into a ball and threw it into the fire. 'Let's try again tomorrow,' he said determinedly. 'Or better, let's try never again.'

'How is our handsome, brooding, wicked grace specialist doing?' Isabela drawled and Hawke wondered how much she already had drunk to drown her boredom.

At the very moment, the door opened and Fenris came in, closely followed by Anders.

'It seems you can ask him yourself,' Hawke said and gave the elf a smile. He reciprocated and she felt warmth spread through her stomach.

Isabela shot to attention at the entering of the two males. 'Not so brooding tonight, I see.'

Fenris turned to Isabela. 'Ask me what?'

'Well, you know, you didn't come out of that trap so wonderful and I wondered if Hawke's special treatment had done you well,' Isabela said with a not to misunderstand emphasis on "special".

'I'm walking again, am I not,' Fenris commented dryly.

'You were injured?' Anders asked surprised. Apparently, no one had informed him about that little detail.

'I was. I'm not any longer,' the elf replied curtly.

'Why didn't you come to me?' Anders sounded offended; obviously, his professional pride was hurt.

'And then what? Let me touch you with your filthy magic?' Fenris on his turn sounded outright disgusted.

'Hawke is not a real healer,' Anders objected.

'No? She healed me perfectly well in the conventional way,' the elf bit back.

'Gentlemen, please let's not spoil a perfect evening,' Varric intervened before the squabble turned into a fight. He poured Fenris a glass of wine and Anders a glass of water.

'As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask for your advice,' Hawke chimed in. 'Aveline thinks it's too dangerous for me and my family to stay at Gamlen's, er, house but I have no clue where to go. Aveline suggested the Hanged Man, but I'm positive even ten angry dragons can't chase my mother in here. Oh, and by the way, Meeran is dead. Possibly murdered by Seekers.'

Silence fell, they all stared at her.

Then Varric heaved his mug and said solemnly, 'Let's drink to the bugger. He was a nug-humping motherless son of a bloody bastard but a decent one.'

'Have I missed something?' Merrill's high voice interjected. 'I'm so sorry I'm late, but I was trying to stop up a rat's hole when I spotted – '

'It's alright Kitten,' Isabela prevented a long undoubtedly jumbled story. 'Come sit next to me, I'll update you.'

'Let us focus on Hawke's dilemma,' Varric continued after emptying half his mug on Meeran's behalf. 'If her mother is so adamant about not living in here, even for a while, why don't you let them all move into your gigantic mansion, elf? You have plenty of room.'

Fenris choked on his wine and started to cough ostentatiously.

'Yes, elf, we get the message,' the dwarf sighed. 'No need to overreact.'

'Can't Aveline find some space in the Keep? You can hide an army of ogres in there,' Isabela suggested.

Hawke grinned wickedly. 'Good idea. We can lock them up in the dungeons, all problems solved.'

Carver chose that moment to enter Varric's suite. 'Who is going to be locked up?' he eagerly asked.

'You, if you don't watch that mouth of yours,' Marian growled.

'Ha ha, very funny. I see you're in one of your good moods this evening. How unusual.' Carver slumped down in an empty chair and immediately reached for the pitcher with ale.

'You would understand if you knew about all that has happened of late,' Hawke said with rising irritation. 'And have at least the decency to ask if you can have a drink before grabbing it.'

'How am I supposed to know what happened, if you refuse to take me along on your precious missions, or even tell me anything!' Carver deliberately poured a generous amount of ale in a tankard.

'And how am _I_ supposed to do that, if you are never at home, you jerk!' Hawke shouted. 'Or do you expect me to turn the whole of Kirkwall upside down to find you, or post a message on the Chantry board: "Please Carver come home, your sister needs you"! Where the hell have you been anyway?'

'That's none of your concern,' Carver sneered.

Dramatically Marian threw her arms in the air. 'Fine! Keep roaming the streets with those shady gangs of yours! But don't come complaining to me every time you miss something important!'

'Let me explain,' Varric said, intervening for a second time, 'before you tear each other's throats out.'

Sister and brother backed down, although still tense. The end of the story was that both Marian and Carver would try to convince Leandra that the evil, immoral and above all heinous Hanged Man was the only option, if she didn't want to get killed in her own bed.

'And with that I'm going home,' Hawke stated. 'I've had enough for one day.'

'Let me escort you,' Fenris said chivalroulsy and she gratefully accepted his offer.

-

'Seeing you being involved in a row with your brother is highly amusing,' Fenris mentioned while they were taking the narrow street that led to her uncle's hovel.

'I'm glad at least you like it,' Hawke retorted with a snort.

'You know, you are a walking contradiction, Hawke. One moment the classic example of patience and understanding, the next a fuming virago.'

'Thank you for the charming compliment,' she mumbled, not exactly sure how to take it. 'And may I say, you too are the most delightful personality I ever had the pleasure to meet.'

Fenris softly chuckled. 'I hear the dwarf’s lessons in eloquence haven't been wasted on you. But yes, you're right, frighteningly so about a lot of things. I apprehend I'm not an easy person to deal with.'

'Since when did you develop such a wonderful self-knowledge?' she teased.

But before he could answer, the attack came.

Within no time they were surrounded by a large group of thugs, their blades and maces glinting in the dim light. Hawke and Fenris had automatically turned and stood now back to back, daggers and long sword in hand. They got addressed by one of the assailants.

'And what have we here? Nice outfit, nice weapons, I bet nice coin purses too. I suggest you hand it all over.'

'You can rip it from my dead body,' Hawke snarled.

'And that, my lady, is exactly what we are going to do.'

Hawke recognized this was a dangerous situation. The Hanged Man was too far away to expect any assistance, Fenris had only just recovered and there were a lot of enemies. Too many in fact to come out of the inevitable fight unscathed, or even alive. Fenris would hate her for it, but she couldn't think of anything else to save their hides. The moment the muggers launched their assault and Fenris let out a fierce battle cry, she dropped her daggers, tapped into the Fade and gathered all the energy she could. Then she unleashed a spell of kinetic energy. It was so powerful that the attackers got scattered around and smashed into the surrounding walls. She heard the screams of terror and the breaking of bones while she staggered and fell on her knees. Her head spun and with a blurred gaze she saw Fenris slaughter most of the gang members. He moved so fast he seemed to be nothing but a blue haze. Nevertheless a few thugs managed to escape, one of them hysterically and incoherently yelling something about magic or witchcraft. Or with any luck about an earthquake.

Fenris turned to her with blazing eyes.

'Idiot!' he hissed, 'how could you use magic while the Seekers are hunting you!'

She wasn't able to answer him. White lights were fountaining behind her eyes, her head ached like mad and she was struggling for breath. She had used just one spell, but with much more force than back then against the arcane horror; she felt completely drained and desperately tried to pull herself together.

'Are you hurt?' A hint of worry wove through the anger.

She shook her head and almost fell over. She didn't know how long she had sat there before the side-effects of wielding magic finally dwindled and she deemed it save to get up. She leaned against a wall. Fenris was eyeing her, his arms folded, his lips pressed together. He hadn't lifted a finger to help her but, on the other hand, hadn't run off to leave her alone either.

'Feeling alright again?' he asked gruffly.

'I think so,' she mumbled.

'Good. Let's get you home then.'

But before they had a chance to move, he became rigid.

-

His sensitive elven ears picked up a dreadful sound. For a moment, he stood motionless, not knowing what to do. Then, even before she could ask him why he was acting so strangely, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into a nearby alley. She wanted to protest but he smothered her words by pinning her to the wall and pushing himself into her, embracing her hard. She gasped, too flabbergasted to raise objections.

'Put your arms around me,' he hissed. His hot breath swirled on the skin of her ear and neck and made her quiver. And then she heard it too. The dreaded jingle of heavily armoured Templars, at least six of them. It was easy to recognize them, their armour being much weightier than the kind the City Guard wore. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she wanted to break away in an attempt to flee. But he prevented her doing so by pressing himself even faster to her body. T _emplars, are they Templar anyway, or are they Seekers. I have to get out of here. Now_! Panic seriously kicked in.

'Don't,' Fenris breathed.

She understood, despite her utmost panic, what he was trying to do. And thus, she responded to his command. She snaked one arm around his leather clad waist, and laid her other hand at the back of his head, her heavily trembling fingers playing through his ruffled moonlike hair, soft and smooth and sleek as she had dreamed it would be. She got overwhelmed by several conflicting emotions. The fear of getting caught by the Templars and being dragged down to the Gallows to be interrogated by a Seeker, was at first the strongest feeling. But that horror soon got overruled by his hips pressing into hers, and the warm skin of his face touching her cheek. She always had wanted to know how it would feel to draw her fingers through that tousled hair and it was even more arousing than she had imagined. She let her fingers trace down to the exposed skin of his neck, and was exhilarated by the bare, soft warmth she found. He stiffened and she heard him taking in a sharp breath, but she didn't let go. Instead she let her fingers trail to his ears and softly caressed them. He uttered some words in Tevene, no doubt curses. He tried to yank his body away from her, while he at the same time even pushed harder. Hawke almost chuckled at this contradictory movement. She was aware of the fact she was taking advantage of the situation, but at this very moment she didn't care one bit. Her heart pounded so hard, she was sure he felt it through his armour. Her breath became ragged as if they were making love; she almost moaned and imagined he was doing the same. But he was just holding her close, very close.

The marching sound of heavy armour caught up with the alley where they were standing, bodies pressed into each other fiercely, passed it and slowly faded away. She heard a few muffled laughs through her pounding ears, laughs at the couple that apparently had no other place to go than the wall where they were embracing each other.

Fenris let out a long held breath and pushed away from her. For a few stretched moments, she could swear that his lips lingered above hers, and then he jerked back, standing before her as the embodiment of doom, nearly towering over her although he was not much taller than she was. She could almost taste his anger and didn't dare to look at him. She had teased him beyond the limits. She knew that for the briefest of moments she had felt his lips brushing her cheek. She knew she had felt his arousal against her thigh. It still made her knees weak.

'I think it is best that you spend the night in my mansion,' he said gruffly. 'You'll be safest there.' His voice sounded hoarse and thick.

She couldn't help thinking that for someone who hated mages and didn't want to be touched, he had gone an awful way to save her skin.

 _She wanted to feel his body once more. She desperately wanted his lips upon hers_.

And then fear kicked in again.

'I have to check on my family,' she said, her voice shriller than she intended.

He hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating the idea, but more likely to collect his senses.

'You're right,' he admitted. 'They might be in danger.'

'I will never forgive myself if something happens to them,' she squeaked.

Without uttering another word, he took her wrist in a steel grip and dragged her more or less to the hovel she shared with her closed-ones. Everything was quiet there. Wherever the patrol had been headed, it was, Maker be blessed, not here.

'Satisfied?' Fenris snarled and started to pull her towards the steps that led to Hightown.

'If everything is safe,' she started, but was cut off by his angry voice.

'For now. They can return. If they were after someone it could be you. But not your family. It's better when you're not there. For your own sake. And theirs.' He bit off his sentences and she thought it better not to waylay him. Not when he was in this mood. She had pushed him far enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, of course, will not be the end to it!
> 
> Hope you like it thus far. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: another sex scene, rather short.  
> Besides that, there will be quite a revelation.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 9

-

Reluctantly she trailed after him, through the entrance hall, still in disarray and littered with debris, up the rightwing of the monumental double stairway, all the while expecting some kind of outburst or angry rant in the end. When they had reached the only room he used in his gigantic mansion, Fenris first took off the leather gloves he wore when he visited Lowtown, and carefully placed his long sword next to his broadsword in the weapon rack he had found somewhere in the dilapidated place. After that, he turned his attention to the fire. The room was chilly and dim; the logs in the hearth had reduced to embers. He took some wood from the stack next to the fireplace and put it on the softly crackling cinders. It didn’t take long before the fire was roaring again. Only then he stood up to face her.

All that time she had been standing not four paces over the threshold, ready to flee if the situation would get out of hand, looking at anything but him. Now, however, she felt his gaze upon her and she couldn’t deny his existence any longer. The light of the flames lit the room and played over his handsome elven face. As she already had anticipated, he was glowering at her. Fiercely. She moaned inwardly. Why, in the name of Andraste’s burning butt cheeks, had she ever agreed to come with him? She hadn’t, had she, he had just forced her and she had been too overwhelmed by what had happened to stand strong against his determination. And now here she was, bracing herself against his inevitable anger.

‘Do you have a death wish?’ he growled.

Ah, it was indeed going to be this way. Well, if he wanted to throw harsh words at her, he’d better be prepared to expect a few stones back. She steeled herself, pulled her shoulders back and shot him a defiant look.

‘Not that I’m aware, but perhaps you do,’ she sneered back at him.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he spat.

‘I hate to use magic and I avoid it as best as I can, but if I hadn’t used it back there, you would have been nothing more than a smear on the wall or a bloody pulp in the gutter by now,’ she spat in return.

‘I highly doubt that. You could have managed with your daggers.’

‘There were far too many of them and there were just the two of us, so no. Besides that, I don’t know why you bother. It seems to me you’re the kind of person who would like to see all mages being dragged to the Gallows. Which includes me. Why make such a fuss!’ After what he had done to save her from the Templars, this was not fair. She knew, of course, but was too agitated to take it back. The nerves about what had happened still held her in their grip.

He glared fireballs at her. ‘I still owe you a debt. How am I supposed to pay you back when you are in the Circle or dead?’ he snarled.

A debt?? That was a lame excuse if she ever heard one.

‘Well, I didn’t realize that your _debt_ to me weighted that heavy on your shoulders,’ she scoffed. ‘But you can always make a donation to the poor on my behalf if that makes you feel better.’ On these words she turned and swept out of the room. Everywhere was better than being here with him at this moment. She’d rather sneak into the Chantry, spending the night in one of the storerooms so conveniently close to the entrance. It wouldn’t be the first time.is voice caught her before she had reached the door.

‘Hawke, wait,’ he called after her. Despite her aggravation she held her step. ‘I don’t want you to wander through Kirkwall while Templars and Seekers are hunting you.’

Did she really hear a trace of _pleading_? This could become interesting after all. She turned on her heels.

‘At least the Templars don’t know that I am the one they are looking for. We don’t even know whether they were looking for me in the first place, or if they were looking for someone at all. They are having patrols all the time; it could have been a drill. And moreover, I’m pretty good at looking not like a mage at all. I think I can even manage to pass for a decent human being.’ She took a little satisfaction at his wince at those words. ‘But again, why do you care if I would get caught? And don’t start about that stupid debt again.’

‘Varric would kill me,’ he said rather lamely.

She cocked her head and put one hand on her hip.

_Damn it, don’t look so attractive, you bloody mage._

‘Why can’t you admit you have grown attached to me? Just say something like, well, “you’re an annoying apostate but you’re my annoying apostate and no one is going to lay their hands upon you but me”? It would surely be refreshing.’ _Especially if you really would lay your hands upon me._

He stared incredulously at her. The corners of his mouth started to twitch and for a moment she thought he was going to have a fit. But then he laughed out loud. She had seen him smile, several times by now and it still made her heart flutter. But to hear him laughing out loud with that mind-blowing voice of rough velvet dripping with dark molten sugar, brought back fantasies of his hands on her naked body, his hot breath swirling on her skin and his lips hungrily on hers. Despite that and although it sounded warm and deep and wonderful and bursting with unfulfilled promises, she automatically took a step back. She didn’t know what to expect next. But he just shook his head and looked at her with those intense silvery green eyes. It took her a few moments to regain her brainpower.

‘You’re impossible,’ he said.

‘One of my many charms,’ she agreed with a crooked smile.

He groaned. ‘I need a drink. Care for a glass of wine?’

She nodded, relieved that the storm had drifted off. ‘I could use one, after this eventful night.’ The Chantry could wait, at least for now.

Fenris opened one of the bottles he had fetched from the cellar before he had gone to the Hanged Man, while Hawke took a seat in the chair that she considered more or less as hers, after having spent a night in it.

‘You know what is strange?’ she mused.

‘Hmm?’ he hummed, in the meantime concentrating on pulling out the cork without breaking it.

‘I’m just thinking it over, but when those Templars marched by, they didn’t pay any attention to the corpses being scattered around whatsoever. They didn’t even hold their step.’

‘They are Templars,’ Fenris commented without thinking. ‘No City Guards. What do they care about a bunch of dead thugs lying around? They are only interested in mages. There you go. I’m sorry, still no glasses.’

The expression “a glass of wine” was just illustrative for the way he tried to give his live some meaning. He used the term rather sarcastically on purpose; up till now he had been busy by not looking like Magisters or nobles which was roughly the same. Only the nobility drank wine out of glasses, the sufferable part of humanity was satisfied with using earthen mugs. “A glass of wine” sounded posh and he hated posh. The lack of glasses suited him well. And, of course, Hawke never expected him to offer just a glass; she was only satisfied with the whole bottle. And nothing less, he suspected; he smiled inwardly at the memory of a very drunken Hawke who had burst into his room in the middle of the night.

Within less than an hour she would have turned his mind upside down, what with him wholly not prepared for what she was about to say. In all her idiotic innocence, he thought afterwards. Days later.

‘You might be right,’ she nodded, accepting the bottle he passed to her.

Fenris started to open another one. ‘I’m sure I am. Don’t be suspicious about it; they are just a horde of rude nitwits.’ His eyes flew to her in shock when his ears caught up with his own words. ‘I did not just say that, did I? I must keep my mind together; you’re starting to rub off on me.’

Hawke couldn’t help but laugh while he shook his head with a sigh. _You unbearable adorable woman._

Then Hawke took in a sharp breath. ‘Damn it! I left my daggers in that alley.’

‘Maybe you did but I didn’t,’ he reassured her. ‘They’re on the weapon rack.’

‘Oh,’ she sighed relieved. ‘Thank you.’

They sat for a while, drinking in silence. Fenris was looking sidelong at her, taking in her lovely face, framed by her honey blond hair that almost looked reddish in the light of the dancing flames that played over the strands. Her hair was in complete disorder, not for the first time, but now he had witnessed that it was a result of all the events of a hectic evening. She tried to make something of it by combing her fingers through her curls. It hardly had any results and he had to admit he only liked that. Hawke with a head full of tousled hair was quite endearing of not dangerously gorgeous. With some effort he suppressed a small gentle smile. He still felt somewhat troubled about the occurrences, all of them, but even though he had wanted to slap her a few times, he once more wasn’t able to hold on to his anger. She always managed to disarm him. She seemed to have recovered from the exhaustion earlier this evening. She still looked a little pale although that was difficult to see, also because of the glowing and dancing fire. All the time one of her remarks kept swirling in his mind.

‘You’re a mage,’ he started pensively, making her turn her head.

‘I plead guilty,’ she said in a slightly mocking tone. ‘But I thought we already established that. Weeks ago in fact.’

Fenris shot her a somewhat irritated look. ‘Then why do you hate to use it?’

She thought about that for a moment. ‘To avoid reactions like yours? To stay free instead of getting locked up? Lots of obvious reasons? Why are you bothered by it anyway? I thought you’d be happy about it.’ She sighed when she saw his expression. ‘Frankly, I’m not that good at wielding magic,’ she confessed with an apologetic smile.

Sceptically he stared at her for some moments. ‘That’s a load of nonsense,’ he then countered. ‘I saw you handle that arcane horror as if it was a lesser shade or skeleton. I saw you shatter those thugs as if they were but a bunch of inferior puppets. I come from a country of Magisters and I know no minor mage could accomplish what you did here, on that very landing.’ He waved his hand in the direction where the disturbing event had taken place. ‘Or back there in that slum. So don’t lie to me, you must be very powerful.’

‘And perhaps you also noticed how drained I am after casting just one spell? Tell me how that agrees with me being powerful.’

‘It would help if you’d carry some lyrium potions with you,’ he objected.

Marian shook her head. ‘I can drink as much lyrium as I want, in fact so much that I poison myself with the stuff, it won’t help one bit. There’s no mana flowing through my veins. You can’t replenish something that isn’t there.’

‘But ... _what_?’ Fenris tried to comprehend what she had said and could hardly grasp it; the impact was too perplexing, if not enormous. ‘But if that is true, how do you succeed to perform magic at all?’

Hawke shrugged. ‘I just tap into the Fade and use the energy that lingers there.’

His eyes narrowed. That made sense but in a very bad way. ‘You mean you use the power of demons,’ he growled. ‘I knew there must be –‘

‘I never encountered a demon in my entire life,’ she cut down the foreseeable heated accusation. ‘At least not in the Fade. Here in Kirkwall they seem to pop up at every corner, but they don’t affect me.’

He snapped his mouth shut and just stared at her. She was looking at her booted feet, turning the plain silver ring on her left hand around and around. It looked like some kind of nervous habit. He couldn’t believe her, didn’t _want_ to believe her. He had witnessed a lot of magic and always there were heaps of lyrium, mana and demons involved. And now this woman, who he considered hard to understand to start with, stated she didn’t use any of those. She turned into an even bigger conundrum. He rose from his chair and began to pace the room, trying to listen to her and at the same time to figure out her words and his own thoughts.

‘I wouldn’t even know how to get in contact with a demon,’ she went on as if she wanted to make an apology. ‘And apparently they don’t know how to harass me because they never made an effort.’

He pushed his fingers against his temples. ‘Let me get this clear. Unlike any other mage you don’t need mana and more important, you’re not plagued by demons that want to manipulate you. I assume that means you can’t resort to blood magic.’

‘I wouldn’t know how. I can of course try to bleed myself dry and call, ‘Here, demon, demon, demon,’ she said with a mischievous smile.

Fenris groaned. ‘This is not funny Hawke, this is a serious matter.’ He paced to and fro once more. ‘Why do you go into the Fade anyway if you’re not seeking the aid of demons?’

‘I don’t go into the Fade as such, I just assemble the energy that exists there. You’d be surprised how much you can find. I suppose the demons must be very industrious all the time.’

‘But the Fade ... I would think you’d stay away from that place, to avoid any risk possible.’

Hawke chortled. ‘I could use the world’s energy, but I’m afraid people start to talk when plants suddenly wilt, animals start to keel over and they themselves faint. In this case is making use of the Fade much safer, be it extremely tiring. For me at least.’

Fenris suddenly chuckled. ‘The idea that you make demons pass out, sounds very appealing, I must admit.’ But immediately he became serious again. Did she herself know how incredible she sounded?

Fenris had reached the window for the fifth time and turned to pace back to the hearth. She followed him with her eyes. With every twirl he took, his moonlike bangs fell into his face and he wiped them out of his eyes with an impatient gesture. She wished she could do that for him. By now she knew how wondrously soft they felt.

‘And it never struck you as odd you didn’t need mana. Or even have mana.’

‘Well, for a long time I was under the impression other mages were like me, that they didn’t need it to perform magic. Only years later I found out.’

‘If that’s the case, if all what you are telling me is true, how _did_ you discover you’re a mage?’

She took a draught from her bottle. ‘As a matter of fact I don’t recall. I’ve been a mage as long as I can remember.’

‘You were that young?’ And there was another piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit.

She chewed on her lower lip. ‘My father found out, alright?’

He stopped in mid-pace to look at her. ‘Your father?’

She put the bottle back on the table and took a defiant posture. ‘Yes, my father. He and my sister were also mages and also apostates, so now you can start another accusing rant –‘

Fenris interrupted her with an irritated motion of his arm. ‘Not now, Hawke.’ That wasn’t important, not at this moment. He resumed his restless striding.

‘My father taught me the technique of tapping into the Fade, how to guide the energy into my body and how to change it into magic. And how to do a spell properly. At first I was very good in accidently letting things explode, but I learned.’

Fenris only listened with half an ear. A nasty suspicion was growing fast.

‘Who knows about this?’

She fidgeted some more with her ring. ‘Just my family.’ Abruptly she looked up. ‘For the Maker’s sake, can you stop that maddening marching? It’s driving me crazy.’

He slammed his hands on the table, making her flinch.

‘Have you considered this is the reason the Seekers are after you?’

Her eyes grew wide and with a jolt she sat up straight. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you? Why would they be interested?’

Fenris gave her a wan smile. ‘For such an intelligent and witty woman, you can be very naive.’

Marian bristled but before she could protest he said, ‘Think about it, Hawke. Let’s say the Seekers got somehow wind of your – condition; a mage who doesn’t need mana and even more important, who doesn’t even know how to merge with demons. How do you think that would inflict the way people look at mages? How intrigued do you think the Seekers would be? I bet they would do anything, _everything_ , to get such a mage in their hands. And I fear they would turn you inside out, literally if need be, to find out how you do it.’ That idea was suddenly very disturbing. He almost recommenced his pacing but changed his mind and slumped back in his chair.

‘And what about your father and sister? Are they like you?’ He realized he knew about her brother, her mother and her uncle but nothing about any other family members.

‘Were,’ Hawke whispered. ‘They are dead, both of them.’

He noticed she looked suddenly sad. He let out a deep breath and clasped his hands together. Of course. She had used the past time when she referred to them. Stupid.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t need to be. It’s not your fault, you didn’t kill them.’

‘I should have listened better.’ He paused for some heartbeats. Had he said this because of his history of being a slave, or because of her? No, now was not the time to contemplate this, there were riddles enough to deal with at this moment. Nevertheless he asked, as concerned as he could, ‘How did they meet their ends?’

She rubbed her face. ‘My sister Bethany got crushed by an ogre while we were fleeing the Blight in Ferelden and my father ... met with an accident years earlier.’

He noticed the hesitation in her voice but decided not to press on. Important as it was, for her at least, it did not solve the problem of the Seekers and the connection that might exist with her impossible use of magic. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘And spoil all the fun? Sorry. Honestly I don’t know. It’s just natural to me, why mention it.’

‘As natural as your irony,’ Fenris murmured. Louder he resumed, ‘Do you understand how important this is?’

She tried to compose herself. ‘I’m beginning to comprehend it. To be honest, I have denied all that I told you for such a long time now, that I became convinced it wasn’t that important. I mean, about my strange way of wielding magic and all that. You may be right, about the reason the Seekers are after me.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘If that is true, if they really found out, then my family is indeed in danger.’ She hung her head. ‘And it will all be my fault if something happens to them.’

‘No, don’t think that way. Don’t blame yourself, you can’t help the way you were born.’

She stared at him with raised eyebrows. ‘I hope you realize Anders would fall off his chair if he heard this, I’m not certain from shock or with laughter.’

'I already told you you start to rub off on me,’ he said flatly. ‘But let me make it clear for you, I don’t support his idiotic idea of freeing all mages who have access to every demon available.’

‘I don’t either.’

‘Then why do you tolerate him? And that blood mage, while we’re at it?’

‘Anders can be useful as a healer and I got stuck with Merrill because of a debt. A real debt. Long story, I’ll tell you on another night. But to be honest, I rather like her. And so does my brother,’ she added, grinning. ‘But mostly I keep them around to keep an eye on them. You are right, a possessed mage and one that uses blood magic, for whatever the reason, can be dangerous and I want to be there to interfere when things go wrong.’

He shook his head and then smiled lopsidedly. ‘You never cease to amaze me.’

‘One of my other qualities.’ She let her eyes dwell through the room before they ended on the fire. ‘I truly hope Carver has succeeded in convincing Mother to take refuge in the Hanged Man for a spell. I think Aveline is right, my family is safest there. I fear we will still meet a lot of trouble.’

‘If so, you can count on my assistance.’

‘I know I can, you proved that. Several times over and especially this night.’

He hid his confusion and sentiment that her words caused behind his bottle.

-

Carver groaned and grunted while he was reaching his peak. He had bent Faith over a table, his favourite way to nail her, and she was making keening, moaning sounds, meeting his cock as best as she could by rubbing her behind as close to him as was possible. As usual. She was very good at that. He knew she did it just because he paid her and he decided she had to work for his money. He couldn’t exactly decide if she was doing this because she liked the deed or him, but on the other hand he couldn’t care less. At least she enjoyed it; he felt the moist in her sheath built up, letting his cock glide easily in her wetness. His fingers reached for her nub, rubbing her hard; she wrenched and keened harder and then released her hot cream around his cock in one vigorous pounding move. Her body shuddered but he knew she didn’t fake this time because of the wetness she had let go. He grabbed her hips forcefully to avoid she moved away from him. His fingers would leave blue stamps but he didn’t bother. With a loud shout he emptied himself into her, grinding in her wet core some longer to hold on to the feeling that never ceased to overwhelm him. As always shattered images of Merrill entered his mind. It was her he wanted to fuck, or rather to make love to, but he still hadn’t found a way to conquer her heart, let alone her body, so he still made use of the whore in the Rose who at least reminded him of the small elf. _Her_ he would never bend over a table, with _her_ he would have a wonderful soft bed in an astonishing luxurious room, with cooled white wine, all the chocolates she wanted and other lots of unnecessary nonsense. Just to please her. He would have the room furnished with the flowers she seemed to admire, as long as she would be satisfied and opened her heart and everything else to him. He let go of Faith’s body.

She immediately turned to him and slapped him mildly on his chest. ‘You know I don’t want this. Now I have to go and drink one of those repulsive potions to avoid a pregnancy.’

‘There are other methods,’ he replied, not interested in her complaint at all, mostly annoyed she disturbed his dream.

‘Yes, buying some of those too expensive herbs to avoid all the mess. But you could spurn your seed outside my body to avoid that.’

He didn’t even bother to answer her. He went downstairs to have a drink at the bar with one of his friends who had accompanied him and already had his pleasure with the girl of his preference. His name was Wilmod and he was a junior Templar. It amused Carver to befriend a Templar while having a mage as sister. He would never tell him, of course. Like Marian had stated to Aveline, he knew the value of family. His sister had saved his hide more times than he could count. It annoyed him but he couldn’t get around it. He was seriously contemplating the idea of becoming a Templar himself, perhaps he could save _her_ hide for a change.

Wilmod dragged him out of his thoughts. ‘And, was she any good tonight?’

‘More than good,’ Carver grinned. ‘And what about your famous Wonder of the East?’

Wilmod emptied his glass of whisky and waved to the barman to fill it up. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

Carver mused that this night at last had turned out to be pleasurable. He had been in a very sour mood when he left his uncle’s hovel. Marian had left it to him to tell their mother that the Hanged Man would be her home for the next days or even weeks. For her own sake. And he had been forced to use all of his power of persuasion and wheedle techniques to make her rent one of the rooms in the tavern. All the time she had been cursing Marian, blaming her for the awful situation she found herself in. And although he didn’t like his sister very much, what with her taking the lead as if it was her right, he somehow felt this was not fair. But a good fuck with Faith and now a nice drink did a lot to lighten his temper.

After his third glass he decided it was time to go. He too would stay in the Hanged Man and he could take one for the road to bed there. So, he slapped Wilmod on his shoulder.

‘Don’t make it too late,’ he said, slightly slurring. ‘I understand the Knight Commander likes her recruits sober and prepared. You never know where you catch your next mage.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be ready as always,’ Wilmod replied with a smirk.

Still leering about the silly joke, Carver started to the long flight of steps that led to Lowtown. Halfway he got the feeling that something wasn’t right. He was certain he was being followed. He turned, his sword already in his hand. Not two moments later he got a blow on his head that knocked him flat out.

Four hooded persons surrounded him. ‘Take him to the affirmed place,’ one of them said. ‘She will bite now.’

-

When morning came, Hawke woke in Fenris’s bed. She couldn’t exactly remember how she had ended up there, and regretted he wasn’t with her, the moment she opened her eyes and felt the emptiness next to her. As it turned out he was standing beside the bed with a cup of hot coffee in his hands.

‘I may make a habit of feeding you, you’re making a habit of serving me coffee,’ she grunted, trying to chase away the sleep.

He laughed. ‘The moment you’re awake, you start to talk. Unbelievable.’

She sat up and took the steaming mug. ‘Must I repeat myself about all of my wonderful virtues?’ she grumbled. ‘Where did you sleep, anyway?’ _Since you didn’t make astonishing love to me. I may have drunk a bottle of wine, but that I would have remembered._

‘In my chair, where else.’

‘I can think of a couple of other – ‘

She got interrupted by a very agitated Varric who entered the room, panting heavily as if he had run the whole way from The Hanged Man to Fenris’s mansion, which he actually had.

‘Hawke! Disaster! You’re brother has been kidnapped. By Seekers.’

Fenris caught the mug she dropped and burned his hand by doing so, but he did hardly notice.

Hawke’s face had become rigid. ‘You’re sure about this?’ Her voice sounded like metal.

Wordlessly the dwarf handed her a note.

 

_Serah Hawke,_

_Go to the docks and meet someone with a red cloak. He will wait for you at the entrance of the Qunari compound. He will lead you to me. If you want your brother to live, don’t alarm the guards._

 

She read the note aloud and then looked up at the elf and the dwarf.

‘It sounds like a terrible invitation to a blind date,’ she said with an attempt at humour but Fenris, who was studying her face intensely, saw she was biting back tears. ‘We’d better go then.’

In an impulse he laid his hand on her arm. ‘I’m with you,’ he said solemnly.

‘As am I,’ Varric added.

Hawke tried to smile. ‘I know. But it’s good to know I have friends. Let’s go kill the bastards who had the impudence to abduct my brother.’

Fenris still wanted to ask her a lot of questions, but that could wait. Rescuing her brother was the most important thing to do at this moment.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't exaggerate with using the word "revelation"...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speaking about revelations ... well, read and find out...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 10

-

Rhythmically Hawke tapped with her fingers on Fenris’s table. She had somewhat recovered from the shock of Varric’s news. Or better, she had forced herself to have another try at drinking coffee in an ultimate attempt to keep her wits together. After her first impulse, she had changed her mind; drinking coffee and rearranging her thoughts would surely be better than storming out of the door at a whim. She needed to think. Remorsefully she had apologized to Fenris about burning his hand and making a mess by dropping the mug he so thoughtfully had brought her, but he had brushed it aside. He had gone downstairs to make her a new cup since the first one was mostly spilled over him and on the floor.

‘How did you know I was here?’ Hawke asked in the meantime, after she and Varric had sat down at the table.

‘You weren’t at the Hanged Man or at your uncle’s excuse for a house, and it wouldn’t have been the first time you crashed in here,’ Varric smirked.

  
‘We got attacked last night,’ she more or less explained.

‘What? They kidnapped your brother _and_ attacked you? That Seeker fellow doesn’t like half work.’

Hawke grinned half-heartedly. ‘No, this was an average every day attack as in They Never Learn. Only there were quite a lot of them, so I was forced to use magic.’

Varric whistled lowly. ‘I bet the elf didn’t take that very well.’

Hawke shrugged. ‘It might have been worse. But shortly after that, we almost stumbled into a Templar patrol. And when we got away with a narrow escape, Fenris deemed it safer I’d spend the night at his place. And before you get funny ideas, no, nothing happened.’ _Alas_.

‘The thought never crossed my mind,’ Varric lied. He stared at her for a short while and then said: ‘You know Hawke, life with you around is never dull.’

Marian laughed. ‘We did have a lot of excitement of late, didn’t we? A little less would be welcome, to be honest.’

Fenris re-entered with fresh coffee and a bottle of wine for Varric, since he had a cellar full of wine but not a drop of ale in his whole mansion. He had reasoned, though, that at this moment the dwarf would even have settled for the pirate wench’s foul rum.

‘Lest I forget,’ Varric now said, ‘before being taken by the Seekers, Carver managed to talk your mother into taking refuge in the Hanged Man. She went kicking and screaming but at least she’s there now.’

‘My mother!’ Hawke shrieked in terror. ‘Does she know –‘

‘No no no!’ Vehemently the dwarf fluttered his hands to reassure her. ‘She doesn’t know anything about little Hawke-cock’s predicament yet, no need to panic.’

Hawke breathed relieved.

The dwarf continued, rather sourly, ‘Till now she has mostly busied herself with harassing Corff about the state of her room, and scolding the barmaids for barter away their virtue by working in such a abominable place.’

Fenris just managed to suppress a grin about Varric’s term for Hawke’s brother. He thought it very striking.

‘Yes, that’s my Mum,’ Hawke sighed. She took a sip from her coffee. She stared maliciously at the note that lay before her on the table, as if it had bitten her, reread the blasted thing and started to spin it around on the wooden surface with a finger. All sorts of thoughts went through her mind.

Varric knew that expression all too well.

‘I’m not sure if trying to find and free your brother is such a good idea,’ he said, carefully. ‘You may run out of time.’

Hawke flashed him a short smile. ‘I’m well aware of that. Besides that, the thought of Carver causing all sorts of trouble is very attractive. He too is a Hawke after all, or perhaps “an Amell” is more appropriate. No doubt he will give his abductors a damn hard time. And he is, of course, our ticket to the Seeker. I want answers. Nevertheless it won’t hurt to do a little investigation. Knowing his whereabouts will give us an advantage. We don’t have to free him immediately, just post some men at the place. Out of sight of course.’

 _O Andraste’s burning bosom, don’t go there Hawke_ , Varric thought, but instead he said, ‘Don’t you think they will keep him close at hand? Like in the same place where you are supposed to meet the Seeker? Seems logical to me.’ But she didn’t hear him; another thought had bubbled up. ‘And the note warned us not to involve the City Guard but it said nothing about the Red Iron; we can always threaten with their power. Or their not ot ignore influence.’ She frowned pensively. ‘We can put them into action anyhow, let them search out all the good hide-out places, keep them at hand as a makeshift army.’

‘And you think they will listen to you,’ Varric said, sceptically.

Marian smiled smugly. ‘I don’t see why not. Their boss is dead, there is a vacuum of power. They will obey the first one who barks orders at them and I can be very good at barking orders if I put my back into it.’

Varric almost choked on the wine he had accepted as a surrogate for his morning ale. He hadn’t had the opportunity for even one sip, before the message was stuffed into his hands and he had rushed off to tell Hawke the bad news, but this was better than nothing. ‘You’re not really thinking about becoming Meeran’s successor?’ he coughed alarmed. ‘

It could be very profitable,’ Hawke put forward with her most neutral face. She started to laugh when she saw the dwarf’s startled expression. ‘Of course not! Although it would be worth it, just to see Aveline’s reaction. And wipe off your chin, the wine is dripping into your precious chest hair.’

‘The scary thing is that I’m not convinced you wouldn’t do it,’ Varric grumbled, industriously cleaning his chest.

‘Frankly, I hardly see the difference between being the head of the Red Iron and the head of the Merchants Guild.’

’The big difference is that you don’t get arrested for being the head of the Merchants Guild,’ Varric contradicted.

‘As far as I know, Meeran has never been arrested. But we digress.’ She sighed. ‘On second thought, perhaps it isn’t a good idea to involve the Red Iron; they’re apt to make a complete mess of it. After all they’re just a bunch of brainless mercenaries; they would only cause a lot of trouble. But we could do some asking around ourselves. Starting with the last place Carver has been. I take it he didn’t show up at the Hanged Man?’

‘Haven’t seen him all night.’

‘The Blooming Rose,’ Fenris suggested.

‘Ah, yes. Why didn’t I think of that myself, the most obvious place,’ Hawke grinned. ‘Let’s head there now.’ She pushed back her chair.

‘Hawke,’ Fenris said tentatively, ‘I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but don’t you think it is unwise to let that Seeker wait for too long? For some reason he doesn’t strike me as the patient type. He might do some unpleasant things to your brother if he gets the impression you thwart him.’

‘I’m touched by your concern,’ Hawke said, while she rose. ‘But I’m pretty sure Carver is safe. I said he is our ticket to the Seeker but it is also the other way around. He would be very stupid to let any harm come to my brother if he wants to meet me.’ She shoved the chair under the table and added, ‘I’m positive this situation is more dangerous for me than for him.’ She leaned her hands on the back of the chair and looked almost challenging at the elf and the dwarf. ‘Not that the man scares me that much. He doesn’t even know how to avoid a protective marbari or to set a proper trap.’

‘Don’t make the mistake of underestimating that Seeker, Hawke,’ Fenris warned her. ‘He had Meeran killed just to cover his tracks, he now has kidnapped your brother –‘

‘That’s not a big feat,’ Hawke huffed. ‘Even Merrill would have succeeded in knocking him flat out while he staggered out of the Rose, drunk as a sailor who tried to make up for a two months lack of rum.’

‘Listen to me Hawke,’ Fenris insisted, a little irritably. ‘You must acknowledge he is dangerous. I’m not letting you face him alone,’ he ended determined. Flashes of what could happen to her returned and disturbed him even more. She might be tough and might have made it hot for Meeran in such a way that the mercenary had turned into a puddle of outright fear, cold sweat and warm piss (if he could at least believe Varric’s colourful version of what occurred); threatening the boss of the Red Iron was something far different from facing a Seeker. But when Hawke looked at him he saw suddenly a shard of sorrow and concern in her eyes that her little smile couldn’t cover. He realized she didn’t feel half as cheerful and confident as she wanted to make believe him and Varric she did. He also stood up. ‘Hawke, you don’t have to act as if you aren’t worried at all. I understand, and I’m certain Varric does too.’ He stretched out his hand to her and after some hesitation she took it. He squeezed hers reassuringly and quickly let go again. In the back of his head a voice mockingly remarked that by now the boundary of no touch had been trespassed so many times, mostly by himself, that it could be considered as nonexistent. If he weren’t careful, he would soon start to fondle her and end up ... ‘I know you are strong, you don’t have to prove that,’ he stated gritty, trying to drown the irksome voice. ‘Don’t pretend this doesn’t affect you greatly.’

Hawke looked down at her hands. ‘I hate it not being able to do something, that I’m forced to sit idle, that I have to dance to the tune of that, that –‘ She let out a frustrated growl and clenched her fists. She swallowed hard. ‘I made a pledge to myself to keep them all save,’ she said in a small voice. ‘And now I failed twice.’ Images of a crushed Bethany entered her mind. Again. The thought something should happen to her brother was unbearable.

‘You didn’t fail at all; how were you supposed to protect Junior when he is never around?’ Varric countered. ‘Don’t forget he is a big boy and you don’t have to babysit him any longer, as if he would be grateful for that anyway. Besides, you still can rush in and safe the day. I do, however, recommend we drum up all of our companions just to be on the safe side. That one red-cloaked person could turn out to be another trap. And by the way, Hawke, I agree with the elf. You don’t have to keep up an appearance. Showing some anxiety would make you more human and – approachable.’

Hawke smiled mirthlessly. ‘It would indeed be so much better if I burst out in tears and whined about my misfortune. Woe is me! My poor brother has been taken by bad, bad men –‘

’Stop that Hawke,’ Fenris sternly interrupted her. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

She sagged. ‘Oh bloody hell,’ she grunted, ‘you are right, I am tense.’

‘Like I said, I won’t let you face him alone.’

‘I doubt if you’ll be given that chance.’

‘Watch me,’ Fenris said grimly.

Hawke opened her mouth to shout something about being stupidly stubborn but closed it at the same time in a flash of self contemplation. Instead she turned to Varric. ‘And yes, I agree this could be another trap, I don’t trust anything coming from that son of a bitch anymore.’ She cocked her head when a thought hit her. ‘What if he hasn’t abducted Carver at all? What if it’s just a new trick to lure me in?’

Varric groaned inwardly. ‘Don’t go off, Hawke, I think it’s best to assume Junior is in his claws and act like it.’

Fenris started to move his hand in her direction again but changed his mind, if only to stop that damned droning voice in his head.

‘Hawke,’ he said softly, ‘you can stomp your feet, scream you voice hoarse, come up with the most idiotic plans and outrageous theories, but it’s best to accept the circumstances as they are. There is nothing you can do but to meet that Seeker.’

She clenched her jaw but then looked at him, the faintest of smiles on her lips. When she met his understanding silvery green eyes it was all she could do not to flee into his arms.

‘It’s – difficult not to have the situation in your own hands,’ she whispered.

He held her gaze.

‘I know.’

She started, angry with herself. _Of course he knows, you bloody dim-witted ass, he hasn’t been able to hold_ his _situation in his own hands for almost all his life_.

Finally she calmed down and regained her composure. ‘Let’s proceed with Varric’s plan then.’

The dwarf had let his eyes wander from Hawke to the elf and back, wondering once again what had happened before he had woke up Hawke, finding her lying in Fenris’s bed and the elf standing next to her, holding a mug of coffee. Had they really ... he abandoned his thoughts. Other things were more important now, but he decided to keep a close eye on them. His epic love-story needed fodder after all.

‘I will go and collect Rivaini and Daisy,’ he said, ‘and Blondie.’ He remembered Fenris’s dislike of the healer, to put it mildly. The elf wouldn’t be pleased to go to the clinic for any kind of reason. ‘You two run to the Keep to fetch Aveline. We will meet each other at the entrance of the Docks.’

‘Let’s go do that,’ Hawke said with a determined look on her face. ‘Let’s seek out a Seeker.’

‘Ouch,’ Varric whimpered, ‘please try not to joke while you’re in this state of mind.’

She shot him a deadly look while she marched out of the room.

-

Hawke, Fenris and Aveline stood at the steps leading down to the Docks, waiting for the others to arrive. Fenris lounged against a wall with an air of complete serenity. Hawke recognised that as the posture of a warrior just before going into battle, recoiling into himself, concentrating, meditating even. Apparently he took his self imposed task to protect her very seriously. He looked more handsome than ever, with the morning sun caressing his moonlike hair, two heavenly bodies meeting one another. An exquisite elven one in this case. The exposed toned arm muscles seemed to glisten in the sunrays and Hawke suddenly remembered Isabela’s question if Fenris’s former master used to oil him up. She had wanted to strangle the pirate queen back then and this moment she would definitely do it as yet if she’d repeat the remark. She took in a sharp breath. _Why? Why would she be jealous_? She had pledged not to fall in love, so why be bothered by a flirtatious banter between Fenris and Isabela? Yes, she had been highly agitated by feeling his body so close to hers when he was trying – successfully – to ward off the Templars. And yes, she felt his almost magnetic attraction. When he had stated he would not let her face the Seeker alone, she had felt a warm feeling flowing through her body. But besides all that she ... _Bloody hell. She had fallen in love with him_. Damn it. What a moment to find out.

She got distracted by Aveline shoving her shoulder.

‘There they are.’ Aveline pointed at the group approaching them.

Hawke had to admit the Guard Captain had immediately backed her when she had told her what had transpired. She had let everything fall out of her hands to follow her, even had gone as far as donning her old armour to avoid looking like a guardswoman.

The first one to approach her was Anders. He embraced her hard and whispered into her ear, ‘I’m so sorry Hawke. This is again an attack on mages. A very cowardly one. But know that I’m with you.’

She wanted to slap him. Her brother was at the mercy of a Seeker because of her weird use of magic and Anders managed to turn it into his cherished plight of mages he couldn’t stop rambling about. She tried to move away from him and over his shoulder she caught the hateful glance of Fenris. Was that because of Anders himself or the fact he was holding her?

She wriggled out of Anders’s hug and reluctantly he let her go.

‘This is a personal matter, Anders,’ she said crossly. ‘It has nothing to do with your hobby.’

The mage looked hurt, but before he could react, Isabela, who had been scouting the entrance of the docks, returned.

‘There stands, indeed, a figure wrapped in a red cloak opposite the Qunari compound. As far as I could see he is alone, no big bad guys lingering in the shadows. Shall we?’

‘What if we take him captive and –‘ Hawke began but was immediately cut short by Varric.

‘We go down there, _madam,_ and you address the red cloak. Properly. Now move it.’

With a deep sigh Marian started to descend the stairs.

The moment she approached the mysterious cloaked figure, he pushed back his hood.

Hawke stood agape for a few precious moment. ‘Alright, now I’m really tired of all the lies and deceptions. I was supposed to meet a man and you turn out to be a woman. What’s next? Exploding bombs? An army pouncing upon us? The Divine herself to drag me away to Val Royeaux?’ She was overreacting, she knew it, but this new twist was playing havoc on her already raging nerves.

The elderly woman in front of her heaved her hand to silence her. She looked severe but had friendly eyes.

‘I was already told you’re somewhat of a spitfire, Serah Hawke,’ she said with a soft warm voice. 

Marian bristled. ‘Well, excuse me, but I’ve been having a rather stressful time. Where is my brother?’

‘All in good time, Serah Hawke. You were indeed supposed to meet a man, but after all that has occurred already, I thought it wiser to collect you myself.’

‘I know you,’ Anders suddenly piped up, with a high pitched voice as if he couldn’t believe his eyes or trusted his own words. ‘I met you in Amaranthine in the company of the Hero of Ferelden. You, you are Wynne.’

The woman let her eyes rest on him for a moment. ‘Anders, isn’t it? Yes, I remember you.’

‘But you are a mage! How can you cooperate with the Seekers?!’ His voice caught with agitation.

Fenris frowned. They were on their way to meet a Seeker and yet stumbled upon another mage. He didn’t seem being able to avoid them.

‘Like I said, all in good time. Now, if you will be so good as to follow me ..?’ Wynne headed for the eastern part of the docks. She set a fast tempo and they had to hurry to keep up with her.

‘If she is a mage, than everything is alright, isn’t it?’ Hawke heard Merrill chime somewhere behind her back. ‘I mean, she won’t let the Seekers do any harm to Hawke or Carver, won’t she? She looks nice.’ She sounded nervous but then again, she always did.

‘Daisy, don’t worry. Whatever the case, Hawke will find a way out,’ Varric’s baritone retorted, slightly panting.

Hawke considered that the dwarf had to run twice as fast as the rest of them. Or scurry, as Isabela had put it. If they would make it out alive of this tricky situation, he would without doubt add a glorious chapter to her already exaggerated story. She grimaced.

Wynne halted at a warehouse with the Orlesian merchant’s guild emblem above the door. She looked around her before she opened it and ushered them in. Inside, in a compact room stuffed with crates, about a dozen soldiers stood guard and one of them blocked their way to the next door.

‘Only the mage and Hawke are allowed,’ he said.

Fenris took a step forward so he was level with Marian.

‘I am Hawke’s bodyguard and I’m not leaving her side,’ he announced in a gravely and menacing voice and he let his markings flare for a few moments.

Wide-eyed the guard shrank back.

‘Show-off,’ Anders muttered. 

Hawke managed to keep a straight face. Her bodyguard? Hmm, that term was open for all sorts of interpretations.

Before her thoughts could carry her to dangerous waters, Wynne’s voice broke in. ‘It’s alright, captain,’ the strange mage said, ‘let him pass.’

The guard seemed not very pleased but nevertheless opened the door for them. ‘The others stay here,’ he growled.

Wynne led them through a wide space and over a staircase to a room that was sparsely furnished. It only held a desk and some simple wooden stools. Hawke noticed that the only window had a lovely view on the Gallows. How appropriate. The room also held four burly sentries and a tall man clad in a dark cloak. His age was hard to guess, probably somewhere between forty and fifty. His almost black coloured eyes were cold and unfathomable. He stared intensely at Hawke as if he wanted to pull the thoughts out of her head but she refused to be intimidated.

‘Take a seat,’ he said, waving at the stools. His voice was as dark as his eyes, vibrating with authority.

‘No thank you, I prefer to stand,’ Hawke coldly replied. The man was already much taller than she was, no need to worsen that disadvantage.

‘Very well. If you don’t mind, I'll skip the pleasantries and come right to the point.’ _And here we’ll have it_. ‘What do you know about your father?’

Hawke had steeled herself against a harsh interrogation about her unique way of wielding magic, worked up all her mental strength to withstand any kind of method that would be used against her and now _this_? She deflated.

‘My father ...?’ ‘

Yes, are you deaf? I want information about him.’

And now anger began to make her blood boil.

‘You started a bloody massacre and abducted my brother to obtain information about _my father_?? You never considered the option to, oh I don’t know, simply knock at my door or pay a visit at the Hanged Man? We could have discussed the topic in all peace and quiet over a cup of tea or a pint of ale.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘I truly hope so,’ Hawke sneered viciously. ‘I’m dying for an explanation and you seem to be extremely good at letting people die.’

‘I thought you were the one with that talent,’ Fenris murmured behind her; he simply couldn’t help himself. The only one who heard him was Hawke and she pretended she hadn’t.

‘We couldn’t just approach you openly. Everything about your father is highly classified; we needed stealth.’

Hawke burst out laughing. ‘Stealth indeed.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘I would call a mansion full of corpses a classic example of stealth. You had the whole City Guard in an uproar!’

‘I must admit that went not exactly as planned.’

‘You don’t say! And what about leaving the murdered head of a criminal organisation at the doorstep of the best known brothel in Kirkwall? Brilliant, that one. Got the Guard even more alert. Stealth!’ she snorted.

The Seeker momentarily seemed at a loss for words. He was visibly confused by her ferocious reaction.

Wynne moved over to him and lightly put a hand on his arm. ‘Perhaps it’s best that I take it from here,’ she said calmly. He just nodded.

Fenris mused that the man in his career as a Seeker undoubtedly never had stumbled upon a grilling victim that shouted back in the way Hawke did. It was a bit like a feeble looking kitten that suddenly decided to turn and disembowel the dog that chased it.

‘Let’s start over,’ Wynne said, amiably. ‘I agree pleasantries aren’t necessary but an introduction would be appropriate. As you know by now my name is Wynne. I’m the First Enchanter of the Circle in Ferelden and an adviser of the Royal Counsel in Denerim. This gentleman is named Berran, a Seeker as you have probably already guessed, and Head of the Special Assignment section in Val Royeaux. We are here to gather all information possible about Malcolm Hawke.’

‘Alright, bite me,’ Marian said, totally worked up. ‘What is so damn important about my father that you had to leave a trail of dead people through the whole of Kirkwall?’

Berran, as the Seeker’s name apparently was, grunted something under his breath. ‘You were a lot harder to catch than we had thought beforehand,’ he continued louder.

‘ _Catch_ me? Is that what you call the attempted assaults on my life?’ Hawke scorned heatedly. ‘Not to mention the danger you put my friends into!’

‘They weren’t assaults on your life,’ the Seeker growled darkly. ‘We were trying to take you captive in a peaceful way.’

That kindled her fury even more.

‘And you thought that luring me into an empty mansion and sending a few dozen thugs or mercenaries, or whatever they were, on me would convince me of your diplomatic purposes?! And what about that woman that tried to break into my house and was only stopped by the alert reaction of my marbari? She committed suicide, fuck you. Was I to understand she just had the intention to ask me friendly to come with her to answer some questions about _my father_? By the way, did you know you used the house of a necromancer? Not very fitting for a Seeker I would say. You have messed up big time. I suggest you hand over my brother right now. We will walk out of here without being hindered by your guards, and you can send me a humble invitation to meet each other elsewhere. And if you insist on stealth, I recommend a nice secluded spot at the Wounded Coast or on Sundermount. I will even provide for the picnic basket.’ Her eyes spat fire at this moment.

 _The kitten has turned into a lioness,_ Fenris thought. He had to admit he admired her greatly at this moment. She had been wound up, consumed by feelings of guilt, he assumed. He had sensed, at the moment she had hesitated to tell how her father had met his death, that she was hiding something. Something that had made her force to promise herself to protect the rest of her family members. And during their flight out of Ferelden she had lost her sister. He considered that must have been quite a blow; she had mentioned it almost airily but he had seen the hurt, almost desperate expression in her eyes. And now her brother was in danger. He realized that her anger was mostly aimed at that fact, or better at the failure to keep him out of that very danger. She would risk everything to save him, even her own life. He now more than ever regretted he knew nothing about the family he must have had. Would he have done the same? He couldn’t tell. She didn’t even know about that fact. He snorted inwardly and tried to pull himself together. He succeeded only partly. Perhaps it was time he’d tell her about his loss of memory. He ripped himself out of his contemplations and forced himself to focus on what was going on. Immediately he felt annoyed. Some kind of bodyguard he was, to let slip away his attention. He looked at her back, desperately wanting to give her some kind of support, to let her know he was standing behind her in every sense possible. Why, why was he so badly trying to get on her good side, even pretending to be her bodyguard, to stay with her and save her from harm? And while he was at it, why had he gone back to the kitchen previous this morning to make her another cup of coffee, like some kind of servant – slave? Venhedis! _I’m not falling in love with her, I won’t allow it. I don’t even know how. I don’t want to. Don’t mess up the mess. Keep your distance, keep her at bay_. He suppressed the rising panic and forced himself to concentrate on the task he had imposed on himself. _Hold on to that_. He returned his attention to the angry dialogue between Hawke and Berran. That seemed more safe.

‘The woman trying to get into your house was a new recruit, very dedicated. She knew what was at stake; if things would go wrong she’d take the pill with poison.’ Berran’s voice boomed through the room.

‘Antivan Crow’s venom,’ Hawke hissed, ‘deadly at an instance. Why did she take it? She could just have fled.’

‘She couldn’t, she failed, and that’s the Seekers way. You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me,’ Hawke said defiantly.

‘Enough of this,’ Wynne sternly intervened. ‘That’s not why we are here.’

She hadn’t raised her voice but nevertheless the two brawlers fell silent. And then she dropped the bomb.

‘Serah Hawke, are you aware your father was a mage from Tevinter?’

Despite his own shock, Fenris reacted in a split-second and caught her halfway her staggered fall.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, sorry about that.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for your support!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter there will be some angsty information but nothing too explicit.  
> And Hawke and Fenris will come closer together, after a rather testing morning.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 11

-

Fenris was having a very hard time, what with attempting to keep an infuriated Hawke from flying at the mage or the Seeker or probably both.

‘You lie!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs. ‘My father was from Ferelden, he was not a filthy Magister!’

‘Calm down Hawke, before you have us both killed,’ Fenris hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the four burly guards stir and reach for their weapons. He feared they were going to attack if she kept on seething like this. And although she would certainly fight like an enraged cat, he wasn’t sure by far the two of them were able to defeat four brawny guards, a Seeker and an undoubtedly very powerful mage. These were no random thugs or mercenaries. These people were without doubt highly skilled and knew above all who _they_ were and what they were capable of, and would react to that. But whether it was due to his words or because she was getting tired, Hawke finally yielded.

‘You lie,’ she repeated, panting. Though she had stopped struggling, he still held her arms in a firm grip. In this state of mind she could turn into a loose cannon at anytime and cause an explosion like a fire-arrow in a barrel of gaatlok.

‘I’m sorry,’ Wynne said, somewhat taken aback. ‘I hadn’t anticipated my words would cause such an eruption.’ It wasn’t exactly clear who she apologized to. ‘Perhaps it is better we sit down after all.’

Fenris pushed Hawke to the nearest stool available and forced her down, keeping his hands lightly on her shoulders. She seemed more or less relaxed by now, but it could be the lull before the next storm. He could still feel the tension in her muscles.

‘What _did_ you anticipate? That I would burst out cheering?’ Hawke now snarled. ‘Oh yes, I’m overjoyed to learn my father was a blood mage! Imagine that! The parent you always admired performing disgusting rituals and -’

Fenris strengthened his hold, sensing her getting all wound up again and in response she stopped talking. It surprised him.

‘We are having a big misunderstanding here,’ Wynne stressed. ‘Malcolm Hawke was not a blood mage and certainly not a Magister. And you were right insofar that your father was born in Ferelden. But his family moved to Tevinter when he was still a babe in arms.’ She and Berran also sat down. Wynne nodded at Fenris. ‘You too take a seat young man. I know you’re not really her bodyguard, although it was a good thing I let you come along with us. To protect her from herself,’ she added with a faint smile.

‘My companion’s name is Fenris and he is my best friend,’ Hawke said resolutely though it sounded rather crossly.

For a moment Fenris was at a loss. Best friend? _She considered him her best friend? When did that happen_?

‘Please, Fenris sit down, don’t keep standing like some kind of servant. Your cover is blown anyway and I promise to behave like a good girl from now on. And how did you find out he isn’t my bodyguard?’ she turned to Wynne while Fenris took the seat next to her.

The mage chortled softly. ‘The looks you threw at each other gave you away, they spoke volumes. You don’t have to explain your relationship but I’m pretty sure being or having a bodyguard has nothing to do with it.’

 _Damn. Is it that obvious? Be careful, Marian Hawke, beware of the dwarf and his witty pen, he sees all. Wait ... at each other?? No, not at this time you twit. Later_.

She cleared her throat. ‘I’d rather you tell me your story about my father, instead of delving in our personal lives.’

‘You are right. But promise me you won’t go off again if you hear something you don’t like.’ Hawke’s eyes told her she wouldn’t make that promise but nevertheless Wynne soldiered on. ‘Your father began to show signs of magic at a very young age.’ _Evidently it runs in the family_ , Hawke thought but she kept her mouth shut. ‘His parents arranged for a tutor but at the age of ten, they decided to send their son to the Circle after all, because his powers had become too big for one teacher to handle. The Tevinter Circle of Magi differs, of course, completely from the other Circle’s in Thedas.’ Hawke heard Fenris snort with contempt but Wynne paid no heed to his reaction. ‘It’s better to compare the Circle in Minrathous to a university instead of a prison as is the case in Kirkwall nowadays.’ She cast a brief glance at the Gallows through the window and gave out a slight sigh. ‘It wasn’t always like this over here. And I suppose the Ferelden Circle is something in between, but that’s not important right now.

‘Your father turned out to be a brilliant student and it didn’t take long before the mightiest of the Magisters lined up to ask him to become their apprentice. He turned them all down.’

Hawke raised her brows. ‘Are you trying to tell that not only he was not a Magister himself, but also that he even refused to work with one? Why?’

‘Because he rejected blood magic; he loathed it, as a matter of fact. And as you know, all Tevinter Magisters use it.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Fenris murmured. He shot a sidelong glance at Hawke. In the city of the Black Divine her father had despised blood magic? Remarkable, to say the least of it. Had she known about it? Of course not. She hadn’t even been aware her father had lived in Tevinter. _And what the hell had that mage meant with those looks being thrown at each other? This was already a difficult conversation, no need to add more problems_.

‘He preferred to continue his studies at the Circle. He specialized in runes, especially the protective ones. You didn’t know?’ Wynne asked when she saw Hawke’s surprised expression.

‘No I didn’t, I don’t recall he ever talked about runes, well not in another way than that they were useful objects. You mean he made them?’ She noticed the short glance Wynne and Berran exchanged; she thought she read some disappointment in it but couldn’t tell why.

‘Not exactly,’ Wynne said. ‘He designed the runes and invented the spells to enchant them with, but it took a very skilled runesmith to actual create them and work them into a piece of armour or a weapon. It was a very difficult and intricate process.’

‘You speak as if you have witnessed it yourself,’ Hawke observed.

‘I’ll come to that. The Tevinter Circle held Malcolm Hawke in high esteem and he was much respected. Besides that, they profited greatly from his talent because everyone who was somebody in Tevinter, wanted to buy his runes and the Circle received a part of the payment. Therefore it was quite a blow when he suddenly disappeared.’

‘Disappeared?’ Hawke echoed, frowning. ‘What do you mean? Did he get kidnapped by some greedy Magister? Did he run away? But why would he do that if he liked it in the Circle?’

‘He popped up at the Ferelden Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad, Miss Impatience. Irving had just become the First Enchanter at that time and Malcolm told him he had enough of the way magic was used in Tevinter. And that he got stuck with his research there, because they lacked the proper documentation. But one way or another I’ve always had the feeling there was more to it.’

‘And he came to Ferelden because he was born there,’ Hawke assumed. ‘I have to wonder why he didn’t become an apostate. Why go directly from one Circle to another?’

‘Because his studies about runes were too important to him, as I discovered later. And he went not just to Ferelden because he was born in the country. You grew up there yourself, didn’t you? So you know that the attitude towards magic in Ferelden is fairly mild, compared to the rest of Thedas. He knew he would have some kind of freedom there. So, he settled in and within no time he astounded us all with his abilities. Yes, I knew him personally, of course I did. And I was in awe of him, we all were. I confess I even was somewhat infatuated with him. He was a very handsome man with a gentle, cheerful character and a wonderful sense of humour. It was impossible not to love him.’ She smiled at the memory.

Hawke mimicked her smile though a little sadly. ‘That is certainly true,’ she said softly.

‘After a few years he was sent to Kirkwall to give a guest lecture about the art of enchanting runes, and there he vanished again. Entirely this time.’

‘He fell in love,’ Marian said with a sigh that wasn't uttered out of tender feelings whatsoever. Sorrow had more to do with it.

‘That much we understood, since the daughter of one of the most prominent noble families in Kirkwall disappeared with him. But despite the fact many people looked for them for a long time, they were never found.’

 _Except for – don’t_.

‘Apparently the power of love is greater than any kind of ambition.’ Wynne paused for a few moments as if lost in some kind of veiled memory but then went on. ‘Let’s put the romance aside, we still don’t know if that has anything to do with it at all. He left no trail, but finally I discovered what happened.’

Hawke felt her stomach knit together; she could easily guess what would come next if Wynne went on with this personal history lesson. She wanted to stop her, she wasn’t sure she would be able to cope with her inevitable next words.

‘About a year ago, I found out he had actually married Leandra Amell and had settled down with her and their children in the small village of Lothering.’

_Don’t say it don’t say it fuck you, don’t_

‘And I learned that he had been murdered not long before. I am truly sorry about that.’

Even though she had been prepared for this remark, Hawke cringed and the imprisoned memories broke out of their so minutely secured spot in her head, before she got the chance to hold them off. She pressed her fingers against her brow to push them back into place.

‘Murdered?’ Fenris let slip in alarm, ‘but you said -‘

‘I know what I said, alright!’ Hawke snapped. She looked down at the desk, forcefully biting back tears of pain and anger and frustration. She was annoyed with herself; she had seen this coming and still she couldn’t control herself. She reacted silly and immature and lashing out at Fenris was the stupidest reaction of all. ‘I’m sorry,’ she croaked, ‘I lied. I just couldn’t ...’

‘No need to apologize, Hawke. I understand.’ Inwardly he frowned at those easily spoken words. Not because they were cheap, but because he was the one who said them. He wasn't known for his patience and even less for his empathy. But then again, how could he blame her for not telling this? He still kept his own secrets up his sleeve because it was so damn hard to talk about. Seeing how shaken she looked, he understood that she was more upset about how her father had died than about his death itself, that much was clear to him. It must have been an awful occurrence. No wonder then she had hesitated and had called it an accident. Without thinking he laid his hand upon hers and squeezed reassuringly, careful not to puncture her leather gloves with his steel spikes. _Yes, another touch and I dare you to comment upon it_ , he taunted the little voice in his head. There was no response. There hadn’t been a voice to start with. Had he really become so used to her that he automatically reached out when he sensed she needed him? He couldn’t decide if that was good or disturbing.

‘Would you like something to drink, Serah Hawke?’ Wynne sounded worried but Hawke shook her head.

She took a deep breath and gestured vaguely at the mage. ‘Please continue. We’re not here to mourn over my father’s death.’

Fenris let go of her hand and she gave him a short but such warm and grateful smile, filled with unshed tears and framed with unspeakable hurt, that his breath hitched in his throat. He was definitely not the only one with painful recollections; perhaps now he finally could muster the courage to confess his secrets.

Wynne still looked at her with concern but Malcolm’s spitfire seemed to be her own self again. Her not fuming, raging and yelling self that was. Not really that much of a spitfire at this moment. She decided not to press on with the consideration; it would only ignite a tempest, she feared, and wake up that side of her character she never had discovered in her father. ‘As you wish,’ she said as neutral as she could manage.

Hawke raised her hand. ‘Wait. How did you find out?’ Her voice still sounded a bit rough but she visibly had regained a grip on herself.

‘By chance, to be honest. I was one of the companions of the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight and so was Leliana. I understand you knew each other. She told me what happened in Lothering.’

‘Leliana!’ Hawke cried out in surprise. ‘Yes, I knew her very well. She was a lay sister at the Chantry.’

‘She turned out to be a lot more than that.’

‘I can believe that. She taught me some amazing dagger tricks. Had a lovely singing voice too.’ Her face clouded over once more. ‘But that’s not why we are here for. Just – carry on.’

‘Very well. When I had learned Malcolm was dead, I went through his belongings we had been keeping in storage after his disappearance. And so I came across his notes. Irving had looked into them when his room was cleaned out, but never got the time to pay them the attention they deserved. It turned out no one had which was a pity, really. I found very interesting facts. For starters your father‘s interest appeared to concentrate mostly on protection. We knew, of course, that he had mainly given attention to protective runes, but never grasped how deep that passion ran. He wanted to safeguard the world from black magic and the mages from demons, and to accomplish that he developed his infamous runes, as a kind of aid. That at least explained why he had been so eager to get away from Tevinter. I suppose no one there would applaud that endeavour.’

‘I can vouch for that,’ Fenris said grimly. He couldn’t deny that his admiration for this Malcolm Hawke grew, mage or not.

‘So far I could follow, but then things got strange. Suddenly he started to use code language. As far as I was able to figure out, that happened shortly after he arrived at the Ferelden Circle. I couldn’t make any sense of it, how hard I tried. I involved the other senior members of the Circle but none of us were able to crack that code. We didn’t understand; he never had been very talkative about what he was working at, but we assumed that was because no one was able to follow what he was doing. It was too technical and too complex. So why this sudden mysteriousness? We were afraid he had found or invented something dangerous, and knowing how powerful his magic was, it could be something that would put the whole world at risk.’

‘That doesn’t fit with your earlier description of my father’s nature,’ Hawke coldly objected. ‘And absolutely not with the man I knew.’

‘I’m well aware of that, Serah Hawke. Malcolm wanted to protect the world, not endanger it. At least that’s what we always believed. But what if we had been wrong? What if he had deceived us and developed his enchanted runes under the cloak of protection, but in fact was searching for some kind of secret weapon?’

‘He could have stayed in Tevinter for that, no need to come to Ferelden.’ Hawke started to get angry again.

‘He could have been a spy,’ Berran, who had till now stayed silent, put in a word.

‘That is delusional bullshit,’ Hawke shouted heatedly.

‘I would have put it differently, but I incline to agree,’ Wynne said.

‘And you!’ she turned to the mage. ‘First you praise him like some kind of saint and now you insinuate he is a terrorist. Make up your mind!’

‘I never suggested he was a terrorist, far from that. But you must understand we couldn’t take any risk. After all, none of us knew him very well. Try to comprehend I implore you, Serah Hawke. Out of the blue a mage from Tevinter turns up at the gates of our Tower, almost as if to ask for some kind of refuge, which is quite perplexing to use a big understatement.’

‘Suspicious would be a better term,’ the Seeker muttered.

Wynne shot him an irritably look and he backed down. Fenris couldn’t fight off the impression that between the mage and the Seeker, Wynne was the one in charge and he was highly surprised he found it amusing.

‘He reveals little to nothing about himself,’ Wynne continued, ‘he suddenly vanishes in Kirkwall and then I find these incomprehensible notes. It all gives the impression he had been hiding something all the time. Something important. And since he never talked about it, is it that strange to suspect it is something dangerous? I don’t claim he had malevolent intensions. I still give him the benefit of the doubt and will keep doing so unless the opposite is fully proved. But it is well possible that during his studies and investigations, he came across something too big to handle. And I may not have known Malcolm that well, but well enough to expect him to be so stubborn, or maybe proud, as wanting to solve it on his own.’

Fenris smiled secretly. If that were true, Hawke definitely inherited that trait.

‘Before he died, he could have passed his findings on to someone else, someone who could do good with it – or evil. So, after careful consideration we decided to call in the Seekers. That was shortly after the Blight was over and I had returned to the Circle.’

‘Let me guess, you couldn’t break the code either,’ Hawke sarcastically said to the Seeker. ‘But then again, I suppose it’s far easier to break people than a secret language.’

‘Take care, Hawke,’ Fenris whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Berran shot her a very ominous look but she wasn’t impressed. ’We are still working on it,’ he said darkly. ‘But in the meantime we thought it useful to search for Malcolm Hawke’s family and especially his children. With such a powerful father, it seemed unlikely that none of them were a mage.’ _Shit_. _In all the excitement I’ve forgotten about that_. ‘We hoped that he had shared his secrets with his offspring, if only to secure his heritage. But the turmoil that the Blight had caused in Ferelden, made our task very arduous. It took us almost a year to track you down.’

‘And when you finally did, you immediately started to blunder,’ Hawke said maliciously. ‘I still don’t see why you couldn’t just look me up in a normal way and explain all this over a pint.’

The Seeker put his hands on the table and leaned over to her. ‘Do you still don't get it? Or do you pretend not to? Whether you like it or not, your father could have been in the possession of something extremely perilous; a terrifying weapon, deadly knowledge, you name it. If any of that would leak out, it could not only cause panic among the public and hazard our investigations, but also alarm the Tevinters. Or do you think they have forgotten all about Malcolm Hawke? Just as Wynne, I’m not convinced he was a spy, although I’m not willing to leave that thought so easily. It could be he was searching for some piece of information that was only available in Ferelden.

‘On the other hand, I have reasons to believe he fled Tevinter because of something important he apparently didn’t want the Magisters to know about. And take it from me, the Tevinters will chase you more viciously than we, if they ever get wind of your existence. We have our own spies in Minrathous, Serah Hawke and thus we know they are still looking for your father. The only reason they didn’t find him while he was still alive, is because they are too arrogant to think one of their mages would submit to another Circle in Thedas. Maker be praised they don’t know he’s dead – yet. Anyhow, they are not looking for him without a reason. And of course they know we have people stationed in Minrathous, so all this searching could turn out to be only one big trick to cover your father’s findings.’

_Maker’s breath! How paranoid can a person get!_

‘No, things didn’t go as we planned and yes, we made mistakes but then again, I never encountered someone as resilient, shrewd and hard to catch as you.’

At this point Fenris and Wynne shared a glance and both tried very hard not to grin.

‘And may I remind you of the fact we Seekers are not used to act this way?’

‘No. Usually you do as you please. Hauling people out of their beds in the dead of night without a warrant, not being answerable for your deeds under the cover of security, denying the authority of the Chantry, even of the Divine herself. Next time you better come prepared,’ Hawke said dryly but with a menacing undertone. The more Berran had been raising his voice, the calmer she felt. By now she was almost convinced he knew nothing about her being a mage and that if he knew, he wouldn’t care, at least not at this point. Other, more important things were at stake. ‘You should have aimed at my brother. Oops, I forgot. You did. I hope for your own sake he is alive and well, otherwise the consequences could be very dire. For you that is.’

Berran thumped the desk. ‘Don’t be mistaken, Serah Hawke, we had both of you followed the moment after we arrived in this city and learned where you lived, and we very soon found out your brother is definitely not a mage.’ A pang of fear sprang up in her chest. The Seeker looked intently at her. ‘We only took your brother to get to you because the other methods failed. He is unscathed, except for a dent in his pride, I suppose. We had high hopes you would be Malcolm’s child with the magical talent. I still cannot decide whether you are a mage or not. If so, you are very skilled in concealing it but there is positively something strange about you.’

‘My sister was a mage. She got crushed by an ogre when we were trying to flee the Blight. You can always try to interrogate her in the Veil. Or beyond. Or in Heaven. Or whatever you believe in or can reach.’

‘I think you’re not taking this seriously, Serah,’ Berran hissed indignantly.

‘On the contrary,’ Hawke sighed. ‘But give a girl a brake. Have you any idea how much of uninvited and unwanted information I’ve got shot at me for the last hour? _You_ might have known all about it, _I_ didn’t. All the time I was under the impression you were after my life, although I couldn’t fathom why, and in the end all the excitement turns out to be about my father.’ She blew out a deep breath. ‘I appreciate very well how important this all is, and I’m deeply sorry I can’t provide you with useful information. I promise, however, I will think it all over and try to remember anything my father ever mentioned to me that could help you. Is that a deal?’

Berran glared at her but Wynne said, ‘I consider that a deal.’ She turned to the Seeker. ‘I don’t think it is useful to continue this conversation. I suggest we let Carver Hawke go and arrange another gathering in a few days. In the normal way.’

‘She means with a message, simply delivered at the Hanged Man or my house,’ Hawke explained helpfully. ‘By the way, my offer for a picnic somewhere around the Wounded Coast or Sundermount still stands.’

‘Don’t push your luck, Serah Hawke,’ the Seeker said in a threatening voice.

‘I try not to,’ she replied, while she rose at the same time as Fenris. She nodded at Wynne. ‘I hope there will come an occasion when we can talk about your contribution to end the Blight.’

Wynne smiled. ‘I hope the same. Your brother will be dropped off at the Hanged Man as soon as possible. As Berran already assured, no harm has done to him.’

‘I never feared for that. Well, not too much. After all, it was me you wanted, not him. But nevertheless, thank you for keeping him safe. Like I said, I will try to remember anything of import, and undoubtedly I’ll have some questions myself that for the rime being have slipped my mind.’ She looked at the Seeker. ‘I can’t say it was a pleasure, but at least it was interesting to finally meet the person who contributed so generously to the death rate in Kirkwall.’

Before he could react she turned and walked out off the room.

-

‘She may not be a mage, but she is dangerous,’ Berran stated after Hawke and Fenris had left the room, escorted by one of the guards.

‘Sooner very intelligent, perceptive and tongue-lashing.’

‘Like I said, dangerous. You really couldn’t perceive any magical powers?’

‘None at all. But she is Malcolm Hawke’s daughter. I can’t be certain. It is a great disappointment she doesn’t know anything about his plans, if he had any in the first place.’

‘Stop defending him. Even you recognize the potential danger, otherwise you wouldn’t have turned to us. And I’m not convinced at all Marian Hawke doesn’t know anything. But in time we will find out,’ he added balefully.

Wynne just sighed and shook her head.

-

Halfway the large space they had to cross to reach the entrance of the storehouse, Hawke’s knees almost buckled. Carver would be set free, she wasn’t recognized as a mage and dragged down to the Gallows or worse. That was an enormous relief. But at the same time, all the things she had heard about her father and how much that had affected her, started to take their toll. She felt Fenris’s presence next to her and knew she owed him some explanations. He wouldn’t ask for it, she was certain about that, but it was time he knew about her past. She at least owed him that much after all that had happened.

‘We have to talk,’ she told him, hoarsely.

‘Yes,’ he simply agreed. Maybe it _was_ time to come clear, for the both of them.

Their companions came to life when they showed up, but Hawke just marched past them, her face a stony mask.

‘Hawke, what did they do to you?!’ Anders cried out and he tried to catch her arm.

‘Not now,’ she growled, slapping him off, ‘later. Not now. And don’t follow.’ She grabbed Fenris’s hand and headed for the exit of the storehouse. She stopped for a moment after they had reached the quay outside as if to decide what to do next.

‘Let’s go to the Wounded Coast. There we can be alone.’ It sounded more as a demand than a suggestion but Fenris didn’t object.

They kept on walking until they reached a little beach covered with pebbles. There Hawke plopped down and Fenris followed her example. For a long time they just sat side by side, staring into the distance, looking at the movements of the waves, occupied by their own thoughts.

‘My father’s death had nothing to do with what we have been told back there,’ Hawke suddenly broke the silence. After some hesitation she added, ‘He wasn’t just murdered, he was butchered. By a Templar.’

Fenris turned his head to her. Her expression was strained. She tried to look neutral but she couldn’t fool him. She picked up a pebble and threw it in the water. The small stone got followed by another one before she pulled up her legs and folded her arms around them. ‘He came from Kirkwall, the Templar I mean. He had been my father’s personal guard over there and apparently never had been able to stomach the fact he slipped through his fingers. I believe he had been severely punished for that, but then again ...’ She let out a sardonic snort. ‘Of all the people searching for my father, he had to be the one to find him. It took him more than twenty years.’ She bit her lip. ‘I suppose after all that time my parents weren’t that vigilant anymore. We had to be careful, of course, and look out for local Templars. But, as Wynne already mentioned, Ferelden has a mild attitude towards mages, and as long as we didn’t attract too much attention, they turned a blind eye. Besides that, my father practised as a physician in Lothering and thus he treated their injuries and delivered their children. I didn’t teach myself, he did. That was another lie.’

‘I don’t consider that lying,’ Fenris said softly. Hawke grimaced.

‘Anyway, some night the bastard, with four of his cronies, burst into our house. Luckily Bethany managed to get away without being seen, or else I think we’d all be killed. They drove us together in the living room and there ...’ She pressed her lips and swallowed hard. ‘They raped me before the very eyes of my parents and my brother and after they were done with me they gutted my father. Literally I mean.’ She hung her head and fidgeted with her fingers. ‘All that time I wasn’t able to do anything. I was paralysed. I should have fought, I should have used my magic but I did nothing. Nothing.’ Her voice was just a whisper by now. ‘My mother was screaming, Carver tried to break free from the men that kept him in their clasp and got his arm dislocated, and I did nothing.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘I remember our own Templars storming in, followed by half of the village. I remember the commotion, people shouting and crying, other people talking to me. And I just sat there, completely numb, looking at it all as if I was no part of it.’ She fell silent and stared at the pebbles around her feet.

Fenris didn’t know what to say. In a sudden impulse he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and held on to his frame as if he was a lifeline.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

‘For what exactly?’

‘For losing it. It has been four years now and still I become a wreck when someone even hints at his death. I’m too sensitive about it. I’m certain you have experienced much worse things.’

He tightened his grip. ‘No Marian, don’t say that. It must be horrible to lose someone dear to you like that. You don’t have to be sorry for anything.’

She didn’t reply, he just felt a slight shiver going through her body.

They kept motionless for a long time, their arms thrown around each other, neither of them uttering a word.

Only much later she realized he had called her Marian instead of Hawke.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, of course, this will not be the end to the conundrum called Malcolm Hawke.  
> By the way, I always thought it strange that in a small place as Lothering, Hawke never would have bumped into Leliana. They should have known each other, at least that's my opinion.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, finally, here we are: the saucy bits.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 12

 -

For a long time they just sat on the beach. Marian had removed her gloves and Fenris his gauntlets and steel pauldrons to prevent she got stabbed by the spikes. Without uttering a word, he had again laid his arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him, her legs tucked under her. They listened to the screeches of the gulls and the murmur of the sea; they looked at the waves, lapping at the beach, and the slowly sinking sun. Fenris couldn’t exactly define how he felt. He was moved by her story, that was for sure. Moved by what she had had to endure and the fact she trusted him enough to tell him. But slowly other emotions bubbled to the surface; holding her like this, feeling her warm presence leaning against him, sharing this silent intimacy ... it gave him a feeling of absolute peace. As far as he knew, he had never experienced something like this in his life. For the first time he could remember, he was not tense. He allowed himself to get soaked with this bliss, this simple and pure contentment. The smell of rosemary mixed with salt and sun. The warmth and softness of someone who felt so comfortable with him she put her arm around him; someone he felt so comfortable with he did the same with her. It enthralled him. He wanted to drown in this, never to wake up.

‘What about your family? Are they still alive?’

Fenris almost started at the sound of her voice. Yes, of course, paradise wouldn’t last forever. And this time he couldn’t avoid the answer like he had done before.

‘I don’t know,’ he confessed.

‘You don’t know?’ He could almost feel her frown. ‘Well, you have been away for a long time, I assume. But haven’t you received any message or note –‘

_ah yes, another secret_

‘Almost three years by now,’ he interrupted her to avoid that embarrassing fact. ‘But that is not the problem. I ... I have lost my memory. I don’t know anything about having a family.’

Immediately she got alert and sat straight. ‘What do you mean?’

He hesitated, but nevertheless went on. ‘These markings ...’ He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. ‘The pain it caused me to create them was unimaginable. I tried to hold on, but in the end lost my conscience. And when I finally came around again, I couldn’t remember a thing. Not even my own name. “Fenris” means “Little Wolf”, a name Danarius came up with.’

Marian stayed silent for a time, fastening her hold on him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she at last said.

He tensed, his usual state of mind. He removed his arm. ‘I don’t want your pity, Hawke,’ he warned her with a snarl.

She recoiled and moved away from him. _You proud and touchy_ _elf._ ‘I’m aware of that, I don’t want yours either,’ she said. ‘But what did you expect me to say? “Good for you”? Or, “ever thought about memory trainin”? It seems horrible to me, not knowing who you were, not even knowing your own name. But perhaps I better keep my mouth shut if you can’t see the difference between pity and empathy.’

At first Fenris wanted to jump up and run off. But then her words kicked in. He bowed his head and inwardly chastised himself. Idiot he was, reacting as if he got attacked. Some instincts were extremely hard to defeat. She was right. She showed empathy, not pity. Remorsefully he took her hand. ‘Forgive me, I should have known better.’

Marian shook her head. ‘It’s not your fault. Whatever you have been taught, it’s not about normal human feelings. That much is clear to me.’

Not a week ago, he would have become enraged with such a remark. Now, he reclaimed her shoulder and buried his face in her hair. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he breathed. He wondered what had happened with keeping his distance. Somewhere things had taken a whole – different turn. Was it when he discovered she was a mage who would never summon a demon, who would never abuse his lyrium markings? No, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t care anymore she was a mage, even not if she’d be one who _did_ depend on mana. He remembered the look she had given him in that warehouse at the Docks. It had shaken him to the core. And after that, she had deemed him reliable enough to trust him with her terrible secret. Now here he was, holding her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She might not have pulled down his inner walls, but somehow she had found a way in. And he hadn’t been able to stop her. He didn’t even want to any longer. He had to tell her more about his past, and he would, but he decided that would be for another time. For now he wanted to hold on to this foreign but wondrous feeling of peace and calm, to the warmth that spread from his stomach through the rest of his body, all because of her.

‘I suppose I’ll have to check on Carver, to make certain he is indeed unharmed,’ Hawke finally said. She didn’t really want to do that, she wanted to stay here with Fenris, especially after his surprisingly indulgant reaction, but she knew she had to.

‘Yes, you should do that,’ Fenris admitted and he reluctantly let go of her. But before she could get up, he cupped her face. ‘Thank you for sharing.’

She smiled wanly. ‘You are the first I ever told.’

‘There are more things I must tell you but - '

‘Sh. All in your own time, Fenris. No need to push yourself.’

All thoughts fled and slowly he pulled her closer.

‘There you are!’ a deep baritone boomed over the little beach. ‘Did you really have to hide this far from civilisation?!’

They both jumped up in a shock reaction and saw Varric trail down the path, closely followed by Anders.

‘Damn it dwarf, I told you I didn’t want to be followed!’ Hawke snarled angrily. ‘I feel very much like wringing your neck right now.’

‘I can imagine that,’ Varric beamed, after all he had interrupted an almost kiss. He noticed Fenris had immediately positioned himself in front of Hawke to protect her, a scowl on his face. His menacing sword still lay on the pebbles, next to Hawke’s daggers, but the elf didn’t need a weapon to be deadly. Varric raised his hands. ‘No need to get aggressive here. We came to tell that Junior has been delivered at the Hanged Man as a neat parcel. And since your mother found out he had been kidnapped, she is in such a state, she’s about to start a riot. She wants valid answers to her furious questions. If you don’t return this instant, the situation will become untenable.’

Marian groaned loudly. ‘Let’s go then and face her wrath.’ She caught the incensed glare Anders threw at Fenris but paid it no heed. He could stew in his own juice, as far as she was concerned. She and Fenris gathered their gear and followed the dwarf and fuming mage back to the city. She shot the elf a sidelong glance. He answered with a little enigmatic smile that made her heart race.

-

‘You have a lot to explain, young lady.’ Leandra pointed an accusing finger at her daughter. ‘How could you put your brother in such danger!’

They had hardly passed the door of Varric’s suite before she started her livid rant. Hawke saw Isabela leaning against the wall behind her mother, making faces. Aveline looked exhausted, as if she had been trying for hours to calm down Leandra and it had cost all of her stamina. Carver, the subject of their mother’s commotion, leaned back in his chair with a bored expression on his face.

‘I already told you a hundred times, Mother, I was never in danger.’

‘You were abducted!’ Leandra cried out. ‘ _Of course_ you were in danger!’ She turned to Marian. ‘And all because of you,’ she bit viciously. ‘Just as it is your fault I have to stay in this cesspit of a place.’

Behind her, Marian heard Fenris sharply take in air. ‘If you wish you can go home now, Mother,’ she said before the elf could burst out. ‘It is safe again. And you may believe it or not, this whole ordeal had nothing to do with me.’

Leandra glared daggers at her. ‘I would be highly surprised. You always manage to get in all sorts of trouble and to drag you poor little brother into it.’

‘I can take care of myself, Mother,’ Carver said tetchily. ‘I don’t need a big sister to look after me.’

‘We have seen that,’ Leandra hissed.

‘I take it you have been treated properly?’ Hawke informed, trying very hard not to take offence of her mother’s words.

Carver shrugged. ‘They didn’t lay a finger on me. They didn’t even handcuff me.’

‘That’s a pity,’ Hawke heard Isabela murmur and she had difficulty with keeping her face straight.

‘Can I offer you a glass of Antivan brandy, madam?’ Varric, who had headed directly to his liquor cabinet, already held a bottle in his hand. ‘It’s a terrific medicine against nerves. And hysterics,’ he added as good as inaudible.

‘I never drink strong alcohol,’ Leandra haughtily stated.

‘That explains a lot,’ Varric mumbled.

‘And if this mess has nothing to do with you, what was it all about?’ Leandra demanded to know.

‘I’d rather discuss that in private,’ Hawke said. ‘It may have nothing to do with me, it still is a personal matter. Go home, Mother, I will follow shortly.’

Leandra shot her a venomous look before she swept out of the room. After she had left, Marian slumped into the first chair she could reach. ‘You can pour _me_ a brandy,’ she sighed. ‘Maker knows I could use one.’

‘Care to reveal the mystery?’ Carver said sarcastically. ‘Or is your poor little brother not worth of hearing it?’

‘That was not my choice of words, Carver.’

‘I don’t blame you, but it stings nevertheless. I fought at Ostagar, damn it! When will she ever learn that I’m old enough to -’

‘Yes, Junior, we all sympathise with your predicament, but right now we’re dying to hear what happened in that warehouse,’ Varric impatiently cut him short. ‘Come on, Hawke, enlighten us. You walked out of there with a face so stern, you could break rock on it.’

‘It was about Father.’

‘Father? How can anything have to with him? He is ...’ Carver’s voice faltered, he shared his sister’s bad memories, after all.

Marian reached for her glass, but remembered what happened the last time she drank Antivan brandy, so she just took a small sip. ‘I thought it not a good idea to mention this to Mother while she was in that raging state of mind. I will have to ask her some questions, but I better wait till she has calmed down.’ She looked around at the expectant faces. ‘Before I’m going to tell you anything, however, I want you all to swear nothing of it will leave this room.’

‘You can rely on that,’ Isabela assured her. ‘Even on my behalf. I don’t want the Seekers at my tail. Or your fury, as a matter of fact.’

Marian cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘You can bet I’ll bite your ass off, if you’ll even breathe one word to someone who is not present here.’

After she had finished explaining, withholding the part of her past of course, Carver said, ‘Well, who would have thought Father has been that important that Seekers even now are after him.’

‘It came as a great surprise to me as well.’ Marian stood before everyone started asking questions at the same time. ‘I think I’m going to talk to Mother now. I hope she’s in a better mood.’ She turned to Fenris. ‘See you tomorrow?’ she asked softly, not more than a movement of her lips. He just nodded.

-

Hawke found her mother sitting at the table, drinking tea. She looked up at her daughter and Hawke noticed she wore a somewhat sad expression.

‘Marian, I’m ... sorry I yelled at you previously. But I had been through so much and I was worried.’

‘It’s all right Mother, I understand.’ She sat down and Leandra poured her a cup of tea. ‘Did Father ever tell you about his work and studies at the Circles in Tevinter and Ferelden?’

Leandra looked taken aback. ‘Are you trying to tell me this was all about your father?’

‘Yes. Apparently he was labouring on something very secret, and now the Seekers want to know what it was about.’ And again she repeated what had transpired.

Her mother listened intently but then shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Malcolm never told me anything about what he had been doing in the Circles. This is all new to me.’

Marian hadn’t expected anything else, but she didn’t want to let it go that easily. ‘There is nothing you remember as odd in all the time you were together? Something about runes, about protection?’

Leandra went to the fire to boil some more water for tea. ‘Definitely not about runes,’ she thought aloud. ‘Protection though ...’

Hawke waited impatiently, trying not to rush her. ‘Well, I remember that when he discovered you were a mage, he said something about protecting you.’

Hawke let out the air she wasn’t aware she had been holding in. This was obvious; of course her father had wanted to protect her, against the Templars and against herself. She felt suddenly very tired and a headache was throbbing behind her eyes. Her mother’s next words only partly got through to her.

‘He mentioned some kind of experimental method he was willing to use to keep you safe. Strangely he never talked about it after Bethany also turned out to be a mage. In fact he never talked about it again.’

Marian pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I think I’m going to bed,’ she said while she got up. ‘It has been a rather – exciting day.’

‘You do that. After a good night’s sleep, things will look al lot brighter.’

Afterwards Hawke blamed her fatigue for her inadequate reaction.

-

Somewhere halfway the night she woke with a start. Only now the words of her mother hit home, with the force of a battering ram. _Experimental method, something to keep her safe_. Maker! What had her father done with her, to her? And why? Had it something to do with the Fade? What if she ... Without thinking she leaped out of bed. She didn’t even take the time to get dressed. She just threw a cloak around her nightshift and slipped on a pair of shoes. She darted out of the house and ran to Fenris’s mansion as fast as she could. For a few moments she halted at his door to catch her breath, then she got in and climbed the stairs.

He didn’t look surprised at all. ‘It seems we are developing several kinds of habits,’ he smirked. ‘You feeding me, I making coffee for you and this crashing into my mansion at the dead of night.’ But then he saw the expression of panic on her face. ‘What’s wrong? Your mother again?’

‘No, not my mother. Or yes. Something she said.’ She still panted and her eyes were wide.

‘Please, calm down and tell me what happened.’

She kicked off her shoes and threw the cloak over a chair. Fenris couldn’t help noticing her long slender legs under her short nightdress.

She started to pace and made a heroic effort to clear her head but hardly succeeded. ‘She said something about an experiment my father tried on me. To keep me safe.’

‘What kind of experiment?’ He was eyeing her with growing concern.

‘I don’t know! But what if it has something to do with mana? What if it is just blocked by some trick? What if I’m a normal mage and don’t know about it?’

‘Hawke, stop that.’ He noticed she was trembling and feared she was working herself into some kind of fit.

‘What will happen if whatever he did, starts to wear of? Will demons suddenly pounce upon me? Will I be able to fight them off?’

‘Hawke!’

‘I could be some kind of fraud! What if I –‘

He grabbed her arms in a half-stride. ‘Marian, please don’t.’ She flinched. ‘You’re going off. Take a deep breath.’ She tried to suppress the shuddering. ‘You’re uttering all kinds of wild assumptions. Don’t you think it’s far more plausible that experiment is about you teaching a different way of using magic, because you are no normal mage?’

She wasn’t convinced. ’But what about that keeping me safe?’

‘You told me yourself you could use the energy in the world, but that it was very unadvisable because of the consequences. It seems to me that was reason enough for your father to worry about your safety.’

She looked quite desperate. ‘I don’t know,’ she said in a very small voice. ‘I don’t know what I am anymore. Can I still trust myself? Do _you_ trust me?’

He rested his forehead against hers. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. Because, to his own amazement, he really did. His arms moved to circle around her frame. His lips brushed hers, as lightly as the touch of butterfly wings. ‘I trust you,’ he whispered. His mouth moved to her eyelids and he kissed them. ‘I have never trusted anyone.’ He kissed her brow, her cheeks. ‘Only you.’

She hardly dared to breathe when he searched her lips again. They parted as on a will of their own, and she felt his tongue hesitantly find its way in. She welcomed him and slowly they started to explore each other’s mouths. Heated bolts ran through her body and she couldn’t help whimpering. He pulled her close to him when their kiss got drenched with passion. She reacted excitedly, going with him in the heat of the moment, even adding more fever. Her anxiousness had dissolved; in fact, she’d forgotten completely why she was here in the first place. She embraced him hard, clutching his frame as if she wasn’t able to stand on her own feet, which was pretty much the truth. His hands started wandering over her body. He caressed her shoulders, her back, her curves. He gripped her behind and pulled her yet firmer to his hips. She moaned into his mouth and was forced to break the kiss to take a gulp of air.

‘What are we doing,’ he said, breathlessly.

’I believe it’s called kissing. I rather like it, don’t you?’ Without waiting for an answer, she reclaimed his lips.

He responded hungrily, discovering her mouth once more, letting his tongue twist around hers, tasting her, feeling her. His fingers entangled with her hair, his arm snaked around her waist. He felt her breasts pressed against his chest.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Fenris panted when they were forced to take another breath.

‘Should I moan louder? Yes, I want to do this, you daft elf!’

He lifted her and carried her to his bed where he laid her down. Not being able to hold back any longer, he let his hands slip under her nightdress, feeling her naked skin, and with a flare of impatience he ripped the threadbare fabric apart. It tore with a satisfying sound. He pinned her on the bed, still kissing her, straddling her. She groaned in his mouth, fervently holding on to his back. He traced his lips down her jaw, her chin, her collarbone. He let his teeth sink into the crook of her shoulder, not vicious but almost tenderly, marking her. Then his mouth wandered over her throat, her shoulder, her upper arm, back to her throat and down to her soft but firm breasts. He caught a nipple between his lips, allowing his tongue to circle around the fast hardening pink peak. He enjoyed her reaction. She gasped and her hand clasped into his hair, encouraging him to continue.

‘Fenris,’ she breathed. _Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. I’m dreaming. I hope I never wake up_.

His mouth descended along the tight plane of her stomach, planting kisses every inch of the way. Simultaneously his hand stroked her inner thigh, slowly moving upwards, making her tighten her body, burning with expectation. He removed her smalls and his fingers found the moist core between her legs; he feathered lightly over her folds. Hawke groaned and arched her back. He smiled silently when the tip of his tongue lightly touched the sensitive nub hidden above her folds, anticipating her reaction. She twisted in surprise, letting out her breath in a hard blow. He started licking and nibbling her, drawing his tongue over her swollen lower lips and back to her o so sensitive spot. At the same time he pushed a finger into her already drenched centre.

‘Fenris!’ she squeaked.

She was reaching her peak, he could feel it and taste it in her sweet wetness. He added a second finger and made his tongue work harder and faster. He felt her writhe and squirm in a response to his actions. She moved with his fingers and tongue, panting heavily, until her body shook and trembled when her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. She screamed out his name, totally wrapped up in this overwhelming experience. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her mouth.

‘I want to feel you, I want you inside me,’ she panted while she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. ‘Please.’ It was a request he was more than eager to reply to.

He got rid of his leggings and smalls in a heartbeat, and relieved his painfully pulsating member from the excruciating enclosing fabric of his clothes. In one desperate and passionate move he pushed his hard throbbing length inside her, burying himself in her inviting hot, soaked sheath. For one blessed moment they lay perfectly still, thrilled with this feeling of wonderful connection. Then he started pounding and she answered his thrusts by moving her hips in a matching rhythm. She threw her legs around him, pushing him even further inside her, until he entirely filled her. He felt enchanted; his markings lighted up and added to his feeling of delight. Her second peak was more intense than the first. She couldn’t even scream anymore. She just whimpered, almost losing her consciousness. It drove him over the cliff and he emptied himself deep inside her wetness. He slumped onto her, struggling for breath.

‘Marian,’ he whispered into her honey-coloured hair. After he had regained his breath, he slowly turned to his side, taking her with him in his arms, still connected with her. He kissed the top of her head, clasping his hand in her silken tresses.

‘Fenris,’ she answered softly, touching his lips with her fingertips. ‘Thank you.’

He raised his brow. ‘You are thanking _me?’_ he asked incredulously, looking into her bright sapphire eyes.

She smiled back at him. ‘For having confidence in me. For sharing yourself with me. For giving me the most wonderful feeling of my life.’

He swallowed with difficulty. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but couldn’t. Somehow he figured it didn’t matter, that she already knew. He felt himself hardening inside her and moaned softly. She giggled in return.

‘Oh my wolf, so eager,’ she chortled.

And that made him harden even more. She calling him wolf was strangely exciting. With an unexpected and swift movement she turned him on his back, stooping over him, resting her hands on his shoulders, her eyes filled with merriment. And at the same time her pupils wide and dark with want. For him. Again. He inhaled sharply, looking wide-eyed at her. His Hawke, his bird of prey, desiring him.

‘What am I going to do with you,’ she said teasingly.

‘Ravishing me?’ he suggested.

‘Tempting,’ she admitted and started moving slowly. He closed his eyes and grunted. She felt too good. His hands enfolded her breasts and caressed them. She responded by raising her tempo. Once again he felt himself melting into her hot, wet essence, concealed in the closed environment of her feminine walls. After she had come for the third time, she fell over him, letting her body collide with his, while he again lost himself inside her, spurting his seed into her depth. He kissed her tenderly when he finally left her body, she sighed on his lips at the loss. Once more he turned on his side, pulling her close to him, feeling her warmth, wanting to never leave her.

‘Hmm, I think I don’t want to wake up,’ she murmured, settling herself as close to him as possible. ‘I will die a happy woman after this. Unless, of course, you are willing to repeat this – er - exercise on the morrow. Then I’m keen to expand my lifetime somewhat more.’ She chuckled softly, her warm breath wandered over his chest. He strengthened the hold of his arms around her.

‘I live to please,’ he retorted sleepily in her hair before they both drifted off.

-

An hour later he had completely different thoughts.

He got dragged out of his delight with memories before the time his markings had marred him. He heard a girlish voice, giggling with happiness. He was chasing a young girl with flaming red hair. _His sister_. She called after him, crying out his name with pleasure. _Leto_. And so did a woman with the same hair-colour as the girl, standing in an opened door. _His mother_. She reprimanded them, but there was a smile in her eyes. Affection radiated off her face.

‘ _Oh please, let them, Arainia_ ,’ a male voice chimed in. ‘ _They are young, let them have their innocent pleasure_.’

_His father._

He recognized them and the memory slipped from his grasp at the same time. He went rigged. He tried to hold on but wasn’t able to. Despite the wonderful warm and beloved body he was spooned against, he drew back. This he couldn’t cope with. He sat up, not knowing what to do. His first impulse was to jump out of bed, take his meagre belongings and flee the city. But the sight of Marian’s lovely sleeping form withheld him. She had changed him, made him aware of other feelings than hate and fear. He had come to care for her so much, that he didn’t want to part with her. He was certain it was due to her, or the feelings he harboured for her, that this memories had reappeared. He didn’t have a clue how to deal with that. He couldn’t go through this torment every time they made love.

But if he’d leave her, Danarius would win. He was the one who had deprived him of his memories, in a sense Marian had given them back, if only for the briefest of moments before they had dissolved again. If he’d leave her, Danarius would have taken even more from him than his past.

She stirred and woke up. ‘Hmm, is it morning already?’ She turned to look at him and reached out to touch his body. Then she saw his face, the desperate expression in his eyes, and alarmed she also got up. ‘Fenris, what’s wrong?’

‘I recalled … my life before the markings … and then it slipped away,’ he said with a suffocated voice.

A terrible suspicion clenched its tentacles around her heart. She tried to bring a smile on her face.

‘Wasn’t that what you wanted, having your memories back?’

She sounded pleading and it hurt him. ‘I don’t have them back, they have vanished,’ he whispered. ‘How can I, can we ... when I know that some time later I will be trying to hold onto images that escape me at the same moment?’

‘I can help you with this,’ she pressed. ‘When your memories return again, you just wake me up and share them with me before they fade. Or, if you don’t want me to know about them, you can write them down.’

He winced. His throat was screwed shut and he couldn’t utter a word.

‘You want to end it, don’t you?’ she said flatly. With the utmost exertion she fought back a sob. _Don’t cry, you will only make it worse_.

He didn’t dare to look at her.

‘Perhaps it’s best if I go.’ She started to get out of bed.

In a split-second he made the decision.

‘No! Don’t go. Please stay.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. _The bastard will not win. I will fight against him and for her. And for myself_. ‘I don’t want to lose you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You ... you mean too much to me. I will find a way to handle this.’

Marian didn’t dare to answer out of fear to break out in tears. She just held him, softly caressing him. Slowly he leaned back until they lay again, she with her head on his chest, their arms around each other.

‘I don’t know how to read,’ he suddenly blurted out.

‘What?’ she asked, confused.

‘You suggested that I’d write down my memories before they faded again, but I can’t. Slaves aren’t permitted to read and write.’

‘Oh Fenris,’ she said, half laughing and half crying. ‘Of all of your problems this must be the least. I can teach you.’

‘You will?’

‘Of course I will. It won’t be hard. You’re an intelligent man; you’ll get the hang of it in no time.’

Despite everything, he had to smile. He felt her fall asleep once more. For a long time he listened to her calm breath, drinking in her scent, feeling the softness and warmth of her body. In the end he also drifted off, this time without being troubled by any images whatsoever.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you aren't disappointed, or angry, with my version of the "first night". On the other hand, this story is non-con and, personally, I've always been annoyed with how Fenris left Hawke.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, sex. Again.  
> And lots of other things, of course.
> 
> Enjoyq

Chapter 13

-

In the early hours of the new morning, some obscure figure crept through the door of a dilapidated mansion in the midst of the proud and thriving ones in the posh quarter of Hightown. He sneaked upstairs and entered the only used room in the ruined house. Not entirely surprised he stopped to take the picture in: Fenris lying on his back, his arms firmly encircling Hawke’s frame; Hawke, on her turn, resting her head on his chest, one arm loosely draped over the elf’s waist, one leg wrapped over his, both with a faint smile on their faces. He let his eyes feast on the glorious nudity of their bodies and grinned broadly. He only regretted he didn’t bring his book and quill. He had to memorise this. He picked up the elf’s heavy broadsword, sitting on the weapon rack.

‘Rivaini will turn green with envy when I tell her about this,’ he murmured to himself, silently laughing beforehand with the prospect. That put aside, it was time to wake the sleeping beauties.

‘Rise and shine, my lovelies!’ he bellowed and revelled in the reaction it caused.

They both flew up, instinctively reaching for weapons that weren’t there, realizing at the same time they were naked and grabbing the blanket that had crumbled at their feet, hastily covering themselves. They glared at him with a mix of panic and utmost fury.

‘You, you,’ Hawke stammered breathless, ‘you, _dwarf_!’

‘Ah, l’ amour,’ Varric sighed in his most sugared voice. ‘Lethal.’ He let follow this far more ominous uttered word by showing them Fenris’s sword he held up by the hilt. He didn’t have the strength to wield it and wondered again how the lanky elf managed. But he wanted to make a point. He shook his head and made a “tsk” sound. ‘You should lock your door or hire some guards if you’re paying only attention to one another instead to safety. I could have finished you off just like that, and so could have anyone else.’

‘Yesterday, I told you I would love to wring your neck; this time I’m really going to kill you,’ Hawke threatened, not paying attention to his quite legitimate statement.

‘With what?’ Varric informed sweetly. ‘I don’t see any daggers lying around. Or will this be a case of “I have an elf and I’m not afraid to use him”? You can consider this payment for being forced to act like your messenger boy – again.’ He dropped the sword that fell with a clanking sound on the tiles and removed a folded piece of parchment out off one of his pockets. He moved to the bed and put it into her hands.

Hawke shot him a venomous glance before she unfolded the vellum and let her eyes dart over the message. ‘Apparently our dear Seeker is too impatient to wait another day,’ she concluded. ‘He wants a new appointment. At least he has learned. Just a message this time, no corpses or kidnapping.’ She let her look glide to the dwarf. ‘Not on his behalf,’ she said portentously. ‘Let’s pack a picnic basket.’

‘Do you really intend to drag him to the Wounded Coast?’ Fenris asked. Just as she he wanted to strangle the dwarf, who still wore that maddening smug smile, but decided that could wait.

‘Why not? I promised him, didn’t I? I intend to keep my promises.’ She thought for a few moments until she added, ‘Perhaps it’s wise to take Carver along. After all, it’s also his father the fuss is about.’ And turning back to Varric, ‘Do me a favour and make yourself scarce before I change my mind and make minced meat of you.’

Varric bowed courteously. ‘Before I take my leave, my beautiful heroine, I do hope you have taken precautions before your, er, amorous exercises,’ he launched his last attack, while retreating cautiously.

‘What?’ they exclaimed in unison. ‘Oh please, don’t tell me I have to explain where the little children come from, you can’t be that ignorant.’ By now Varric had reached the door. ‘On the other hand, I can’t wait to see the wonderful broody baby you will have created together.’

Fenris started to cough vehemently and Hawke reached for the first available missile, that turned out, surprisingly, to be a book lying on the floor next to the bed. She tossed it at Varric’s head, missed him by an inch and hit the doorpost instead. ‘

You insufferable piece of shit,’ she screamed.

The booming laugh of the dwarf trailed after him all the way down to the entrance of the mansion.

She fell back on the pillows with a loud grunt. ‘Bloody hell,’ she cursed.

Fenris stooped over her body, smiling vaguely. ‘Did you?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Take precautions.’ ‘At the risk of disappointing you, yes I did. So no wonderful broody baby for you.’

He cocked one eyebrow. ‘Were you so certain about what would happen, or did you have other plans?’

Lightly she tapped his lovely straight elven nose. ‘Jealous already my love? As a matter of fact, I’ve been taking those herbs since the day ... since that day. For weeks I was scared as hell that I would be pregnant. You never know what can happen, better safe than sorry.’

‘Of course,’ he said silently. He gently caressed her face, following with his fingertips the line of her eyebrows and cheekbones, the contour of her jaw down to her chin and up again over the rim of her ear. ‘Do you want me to make coffee or provide for something else?’

She couldn’t help letting out a giggle. She put her arms around his wonderful muscled and at the same time lithe frame. ‘You can provide me with you,’ she said with a husky voice, smiling playfully. ‘You claimed to be my bodyguard. So guard my body.’

He chuckled lowly, which sent a shiver down her innards and made her wet with want. He caught her lips in a soft nibbling kiss. ‘How can I refuse such a request?’

‘Hmm, keep up the good work,’ she encouraged him, ‘I love this.’

She fastened her hold and he tenderly bit her lower lip before trailing his mouth down her throat and the crook of her shoulder. She hummed approvingly and pulled him upon her, drawing her hands over his arms and back. He nuzzled her neck while he planted a kiss on the spot just behind her ear, where he could smell her desire for him. He inhaled deep to catch her intoxicating scent that fed his arousal. His hand wandered down her body, cupping a breast, letting his thumb and finger play with her nipple. He claimed access to her mouth that she was more than willing to give. Their tongues danced in that intricate pattern that wove love and lust together. She spread her legs and moved her hips upwards to invite him and give him easy entrance. He let his fingers trace down to her wetness before he entered her body. Her breath hitched and she whispered his name. He groaned while he started to move inside her. She answered with a deep groan of her own; it aroused him even more.

They started slow but it didn’t take long before they picked up a rapid cadence. He felt her build up her release in the way she dug her fingers into his back and the tight clasping of her sheath. And then her body shuddered violently; she clung on to him while the feeling of being swept off the surface of the world almost overwhelmed her. He followed her not moments later, crying out her name. He embraced her hard, panting heavily.

When she was able to think once more, she became alert, the experience of the night before still very near. ‘What about your memories?’

He was still trying to breathe again. ‘Fuck my memories,’ he stammered harshly, kissing her brow, leaning against it. ‘You are much more important than those.’ He meant it. He had made that decision earlier and he wouldn’t go back on it. “I ...’ he grasped her shoulders and looked into her shining sapphire eyes. ‘I love you Marian Hawke. No force in the world can keep you from me.’

She almost choked, hiding her face in his shoulder. ‘And I love you,’ she whispered.

Again he inhaled her wonderful scent and felt her breath whirling on his skin. He inhaled deeply. ‘As long as I don’t fall asleep afterwards, I don’t think the memories will haunt me.’

Her fingers trailed down his chest. ‘So that means morning sex. I can live with that.’

He grinned. ‘What about that coffee? And you must think about the continence of that picnic basket. We’d better get up and prepare for the upcoming renewed encounter with our Seeker.’

‘Oh please, can we just forget about that and stay in bed for the rest of our lives?’ She frowned suddenly. ’Shit. I have nothing to wear. Yes, yes, I know most women complain about that, but in this case it’s literally. You shred my nightdress. And that cloak is so worn to the tread, you can look through it. I really have nothing to wear.’

He laughed out loud. ‘Were you planning on walking through Kirkwall in just your nightdress in broad daylight? I would love to see the reactions.’

‘No you wouldn’t. You would scowl at everyone who dared to look at me,’ Marian tittered. ‘You got jealous just by learning I took safety measures against a pregnancy.’

‘I’m not –‘ he started but she silenced him by teasingly licking his lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘You are my wonderful,’ she reached down to stroke his already hardening length, ‘brutally handsome,’ a slight squeeze that earned her a tormented growl, ‘loving, caring,’ a firmer grip made him jolt, ‘jealous wolf.’

‘Oh you –‘ He caught her mouth in a searing kiss that melted her into a trembling puddle of desire. Their love making started anew until they were both completely spent and exhausted.

‘I love morning sex,’ Hawke murmured, wrapped around his body, making a serious attempt to crawl away in him.

Fenris chortled quietly. ‘So I noticed. And I agree.’ He allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the incredible warm feeling of happiness. But before he would doze off, he sat up. He took a deep breath, rubbed his face and noted the dead weight of his bird of prey, still hanging on to him. She was fast asleep. He smiled and carefully pulled away from her. He covered her with the sheets and blankets she herself had brought him, before he got dressed. He went down to the kitchen to make coffee and while the water started to boil he looked for some clothes for her to put on.

He never saw the dark-robed figure that stealthily sneaked into the cellar and disappeared through a concealed little door into the adjacent premises that belonged to one Gascard DuPuis.

-

‘What in the Maker’s name are you wearing?’ Leandra stared incredulously and in horror at the light, fawn baggy trousers and faded blue, too large tunic her daughter showed up in. To prevent the trousers from sagging she had tied something around her hips that suspiciously looked like the rope of a curtain.

Hawke twirled. ‘You don’t like it?’

It was the best Fenris had been able to come up with, besides a few pompous robes and frivolous dresses she had resolutely refused to put on. Fenris thought she looked adorable, but then again, she would look adorable in a potato sack. ‘

You look like some common deckhand on a pirate ship,’ her mother however commented with disgust. ‘Why are you dressed up like that? Don’t tell me this is your new choice of clothing.’

‘Don’t worry. But you must admit it’s far better than walking through the city naked.’

‘What?’ Leandra exclaimed in abhorrence, but Marian had already disappeared into the small side-room where she kept her armour and underclothes.

Leandra shot a suspicious glare at the white-haired elf, who was leaning against the doorpost with a perfectly blank expression on his face. Before she could open hostilities, Marian re-emerged, crossing the space to the bedroom she shared with her brother. ‘Is Carver in?’ Without waiting for an answer she darted into the little room.

‘Wake up, lazybones, we’re going to the Wounded Coast.’

Carver’s muffled protest was unintelligible, although it wasn’t hard to guess what he meant.

‘We have an appointment with the Seeker. And since it concerns you as much as it does me, I thought you would want to come along.’ More stifled growls, as if Carver had put his head under his pillow, ending with a groaned, ‘Go away!’

‘Okay, have it your way. But don’t start wailing the next time you feel left out.’ She shrugged while she walked over to a cupboard and retrieved a wicker basket. ‘Just as well he doesn’t want to come, saves me making a lot of excuses for his grumpy behaviour.’ She smiled broadly at Fenris. ‘Let’s go to the market. Goodbye Mother, see you later.’

After she had left, Leandra had the dizzy feeling she had been enveloped by a whirlwind. She didn’t like it her daughter had been in the company of that elf and why, for Andraste’s sake, had she been dressed in those repulsive clothes? She feared she knew the answer, but she didn’t want to think about it. She shook her head and went to the fireplace to make some tea.

-

Berran was pacing through the sand. He hadn't been very pleased with this "picnic" thing, but Wynne had agreed, saying it would be niceto get out of the city for a while. After hours of hiking they had reached the renote spot that held the remains of an old ruin. Hawke had spread the continence of the basket she had taken with her on a blanket. At first, he had had the feeling she was mocking him, but that feeling had passed when he had seen her taking in the salty tingling air with pure contentment.

‘See, much better than being gathered in a stuffed room,’ she had said.

He hadn’t agreed, but whatever it took to tell her all she knew, was worth the sand in his boots and the blisters on the soles of his feet. His eyes had rested for a brief moment on the strange looking elf, sitting next to her with an attentive bearing as if he was guarding her. Wynne had stated he wasn’t her bodyguard, so, what was he? Her best friend as she had claimed? Her lover? Husband even? There was a possessiveness in his look he hadn’t noticed before. He dismissed the thoughts as being not important. Instead he turned to the woman who was sitting on a boulder, happily eating a bread roll. Something had changed in her demeanour since yesterday, but he couldn’t exactly define what. He wasn’t used to be confronted with happiness, and he decided to ignore it. He took the offensive.

‘I’ll ask you bluntly, Serah Hawke, are you a mage or not?’ He made it sound as if he was giving her a last chance.

She finished her bread roll before answering him.

‘Do you really think I would tell a Seeker if I were? Besides that, aren’t you trained in recognizing mages? You should be able to tell yourself.’

He squinted at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Just answer my question. It would help our investigation enormously if you were honest.’

‘I don’t see how the knowledge of me being a mage would help at all, besides the fact you would then have a legitimate reason to haul me to some torture room to beat the truth out of me.’

‘So you admit you have been withholding information.’ This time Berran’s voice sounded intimidating.

The elf’s expression hardened immediately; Hawke’s face stayed as relaxed as it had been all morning.

‘Not at all. But I know of your methods. You would use all means to make me confess everything you wanted to hear. I’ve always wondered why you Seekers do that; under torture someone is willing to say anything. You end up with a lot of information, but none the wiser.’

She started to drive him insane. She wasn’t lying as such, just being evasive. The maddening thing was, he _knew_ , but if he told her that, he was forced to reveal some facts he was reluctant to share. On the other hand, he was certain she kept more things secret and that he had to come clear, if he wanted her to cooperate. He only hoped with all his heart, that she wouldn’t make a scene, or, if she did, the elf could calm her down.

Hawke took a swig of the light cider she had poured herself, and leaned against a piece of ancient masonry.

‘You haven’t been that honest yourself. You never explained why you used the mansion of a necromancer. Or was that a lie? About the necromancy I mean. After all, you also claimed Gascard DuPuis to be a slaver. A little overdone, don’t you think? And if you really knew this DuPuis is a necromancer, it seems totally out of character to use his house as a trap to lure me in, instead of him.’

Berran stared at her as if he was contemplating telling her some big secret. He shot a short glance at Wynne who gave him a little nod in return. He tapped with his fingers on his thigh and cut the knot.

‘I must give you that calling DuPuis a slaver was exaggerated, but we wanted to pique your interest as much as possible. We had no reason at all to lure him into a trap. He is one of our men in Minrathous.’

Hawke’s jaw dropped in bewilderment. ‘You employ a necromancer??’

‘He’s not actually a necromancer. I know he dabbles in blood magic, but that is more like a cover. Who in Tevinter would suspect a blood mage to be a spy for the Seekers?’ He took a deep breath. ’Listen, Serah Hawke. I know you are a mage, and apparently an extraordinary one.’ He lifted his hand to keep her from protesting. ‘I know that because I had DuPuis keep an eye on you. Last night he followed you when you left your house in a hurry, and overheard your conversation with the elf. That’s the reason I summoned you today.’

She was so shocked, that at first she didn’t react. Her second impulse was to jump upon Berran and throttle him, but with all her might she managed to hold back.

Fenris already stood in a protective stance, sword drawn, defying everyone who dared to approach her. The four sentries that accompanied them, reached for their weapons but didn’t act – yet. 

‘You fucking son of a bitch,’ Hawke snarled through clenched teeth. She felt nauseous, but fought back the bile forming in the back of her throat. ‘Did you run out of clumsy Seekers? Did you have to stoop that low to let a blood mage spy on me and intrude Fenris’s home?’ Briefly she thought back at Varric’s words from this very morning. Maker! They had been far more vulnerable and exposed than even the dwarf had imagined. ‘What is your purpose? To arrest me after all?’ She pushed away the thought of DuPuis witnessing the most precious moments shared between her and Fenris. If she allowed herself to think about that, she would definitely throw up.

‘Please try to understand Serah Hawke,’ Wynne finally spoke. ‘It’s getting us nowhere if we continue to circle around each other. Berran and I already had strong suspicions you were a mage, but we needed proof.’

'To what end? Blackmail me? Take me prisoner? How long has that bastard stayed?’ She saw Fenris’s strained posture and knew he was feeling as furious and sick as she did. She stared at the blanket and the food lying on it. Yes, it had been meant as some kind of joke, to taunt that harsh figure of a Seeker. But now that idea seemed to turn to bite her in the ass. It wasn’t that funny anymore.

‘Just long enough to find out what we wanted to know. Not long after midnight he came to the warehouse to report. We are not going to imprison you. We would have already done so, if that had been our intention.’

Marian closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath in an ultimate attempt to compose herself. Part of her still wanted to knock the Seeker cold, but she realized that would only leave her very dead. ‘The Guard Captain told me the DuPuis mansion had been deserted for over a year.’

‘That’s true. DuPuis only returned to Kirkwall after you filled his house with dead people,’ Berran brusquely said.

Her eyes shot open again. She noticed that Fenris had lowered his sword but hadn’t sheathed it. He looked willing to attack anyone who made a wrong movement. For some reason it moved her and she felt a wave of deep love wash through her body. She wanted to hug him, but that was probably not a good idea at this moment. ‘Explain to me why it is so damn important for you to know that I’m a mage. I thought the commotion was about my father. You made that very clear yesterday.’

‘As a mage, you must know of your father’s findings. You can’t tell me he never mentioned any of them to you,’ Berran said stubbornly.

Hawke sighed. ‘And that’s where you go wrong. He never told me anything.’

Berran took a threatening step forwards and Fenris immediately heaved his sword. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Alright, that’s enough,’ Wynne intervened, acting like the peacemaker again. ‘Serah Hawke, by now I would like some of your cider, and I suggest we all take a cup before blood starts to flow with no reason at all.’

‘I see plenty of reasons,’ Fenris grumbled. Just as Hawke he was beside himself that someone (someone? a blood mage for crying out loud) had stolen into his mansion, who not only had eavesdropped on them but could have seen ... The grip on the hilt of his sword tightened so fast that his knuckles went white.

‘Fenris,’ her soft, warm voice suddenly sounded by his ear, ‘I know. I feel the same. But let’s try to put it aside for the moment.’

He turned to see her standing next to him, a pleading look in her eyes. She really was afraid he would start a carnage. He willed his anger away, sheathed his sword and let his fingers briefly touch her face. ‘You are right.’

They all sat down and Hawke busied herself with filling cups with cider.

‘If that spy of yours reported well, then you know all there is to know. Then you know my father never gave away anything of his life before he met my mother. It was she who unveiled at least a tiny piece of the mystery.’

‘Indeed, something about an experimental method to apply protection,’ Berran said impatiently. ‘And we want to learn all about that.’

‘With that, you have all the information I can give you on the topic.’

The Seeker visibly got enraged; his face twitched and his black coloured eyes darkened even more. ‘You little,‘ he began but Wynne grabbed his wrist.

‘Tell me about your technique to perform magic, Serah Hawke. I understand it differs greatly from the normal way.’ And, turning to Berran, she added under her voice, but just loud enough for the others to hear, ‘Stop acting like a spoiled juvenile and listen for a change.’

Hawke looked away to hide her grin and she heard Fenris with some difficulties try to transform a smirk into a cough. She didn’t know if Wynne had uttered the words on purpose, but in any case it broke the tension. One couldn’t stay angry when a Seeker was being called to order by a mage, and looked like the proverbial little boy that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He flushed and mumbled something under his breath but didn’t raise his voice again.

‘I must warn you,’ Hawke said while she filled the cups once more, ‘it’s a strange story. At least Fenris thought so.’

After she had finished Wynne looked pensively. ‘It is an extraordinary technique indeed, even if you now are afraid that your mana is blocked by some spell or device.’

‘The blood mage has been paying attention,’ Marian said resentfully.

Wynne flashed her an excusing smile. ‘I have never heard of a mage who is able to wield magic by just tapping into the Fade and use the available energy, without encountering a demon.’

‘Neither have I. And you never wondered why your father taught you this strange method?’ Berran piped up in his gruffly way. Wynne looked sternly at him and he backed down. Hawke almost pitied him.

‘No. Why should I? I’ve always been under the impression it was the only way to use magic.’

‘That makes sense,’ Wynne agreed. ‘The sad thing is, we are back at zero. I mean, we know you’re a mage who has been taught incredible skills, but you can’t fathom how or why. Let alone we could. Your father, with all he wanted to accomplish, still stays a conundrum and we are running out of sources.’

Fenris had had time enough to think it all over. All that Marian was telling the mage and the flustered Seeker, had astonished him before; no need to listen to information he already had been given. Instead he was trying to find some kind of – well no solution, but perhaps an opening. ‘If you permit me,’ he said thoughtfully in the fallen silence.

‘Yes?’ Wynne encouraged him. ‘Everything is welcome.’

He looked up. ‘I was thinking about the runesmith.’

They all looked puzzled at him.

‘What runesmith?’ Berran asked.

He as good as barked, but Fenris was willing to interpret his tone as asking. After all, he was still trying to recover from a tap over the fingers, given by a mage.

‘That depends. As far as I can imagine, there are at least two. You mentioned yesterday that it took a very skilled runesmith to work the runes Malcolm Hawke invented or created into pieces of armour and weapons. It seems logical to me they know more about his skills and perhaps even purposes. So there must be one in Tevinter and one in Ferelden.’

Marian looked at him in awe. _Not only my wonderful, brutally handsome, loving, caring and deliciously jealous wolf, but also intelligent and perceptive one. I never would have come up with that_.

‘Well,’ Wynne started, looking sidelong at Berran, ‘as a matter of fact we did put some attention to those, but when we couldn’t track them down fast enough, we thought it more useful to turn our attention to Malcolm’s offspring.’

‘Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest decision,’ Fenris said dryly.

‘Would you be able to find one of the two runesmiths?’ Hawke asked. ‘Or perhaps even both?’

‘It must be possible,’ Wynne said. ‘I think it’s best we start with looking for the one in Ferelden. I remember a dwarf, a topsider of course, who sometimes visited your father. As I said, we tried to find him but I have to admit we didn’t put much effort into it. We should try again. And we could ask Gascard DuPuis to ask around in Tevinter.’

Marian tried not to flinch at the mention of that name. ‘I have another proposition for you. I am going to the Deep Roads very soon for various reasons.’ She waved a hand at seeing their questioning faces. ‘Not important. Or, well, it is important, but personal. It will take us several weeks. During that time, you can try to trace down one of the two dwarves who worked with my father. Although I know very little, that dwarf’s knowledge and mine put together could lead to some useful outcome. Yes, I’m willing to cooperate. As long as I’m not dragged to one of your prisons to be turned inside out,’ she said with a scornful expression at the Seeker.

‘That won’t happen,’ Wynne stated firmly.

After some hesitation Berran said, ‘You are a strange woman, Serah Hawke. The most strange person I ever encountered, and I count Wynne amongst them. You should feel flattered.’

‘I will only feel flattered when this whole trial will be over with a satisfying end.’ She suddenly felt Fenris’s arm around her.

‘If you dare to threaten her one more time, be prepared to feel the answer of my sword,’ she heard him ferociously say. As a warrior she should feel annoyed. She was very well capable of defending herself. As a woman she melted. Again. She crossed the tender look of Wynne. She once had loving feelings for my father. Has she ever found someone ...

‘Let’s break up and return to Kirkwall,’ Wynne said. ‘We will try to find one of the dwarves. I will send you a message when we do so. I hope you will succeed in whatever you think to find in the Deep Roads.’

‘My mother’s old family estate,’ Hawke murmured.

They gathered their stuff, including the somewhat spoiled picnic items, and headed back to Kirkwall.

\- N

o one ever saw the dark clad figure that had been hiding behind the rocks the whole time. He smiled with a predatory grin. This very morning he might not have gathered the information he wanted, the evening before, and even more this trip to the Wounded Coast, had provided him with everything he wanted to know. Including the existence of the with lyrium tattooed elf. It was time to return to Tevinter. A lot of people were waiting for his information about Malcolm Hawke’s daughter. The elf was a bonus. It would earn him a lot of money. And status.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific warnings this time, unless you can't stand a heated argument or two. Lots of worked up peaple but an outburst of hilarity in the end to compensate for all the angry words.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 14

-

‘No! I don’t want that abomination to come with us into the Deep Roads!’ Fenris shouted heatedly. He stood next to the hearth in his mansion, across from Hawke, his fists clenched, his face in a snarl. He had asked her who she had in mind to bring along with the expedition, for Bartrand had made it clear there were not enough supplies to take everyone down to the Deep Roads. He regretted that question greatly right now. She had tried to tell him, as diplomatic as possible, that Anders would be one of them, and he had taken it very badly. They had been having a fruitless discussion for quite a while now, a discussion that at this point started to turn into a serious argument.

‘He is a healer, I’m not going down there without one,’ Hawke put her foot down. The last thing she wanted was a fight with Fenris but she wasn’t going to give in to his rigid motives either.

‘ _You_ are a healer, we don’t need another one,’ he countered passionately.

‘I’m not a healer, I’m a physician. He can treat wounds much faster than I.’

‘That doesn’t matter.’ He started pacing with long, angry strides.

She almost wanted to slap him. _See the truth of it, you one-sided el_ f! ‘Repeat that again when you have to fight with a broken arm or a gushing slash,’ she said impatiently. ‘He can save lives down there in an instant. I can’t.’

‘You don’t really think that I will let him treat me?!’ Fenris growled. ‘I’d rather die.’

‘I bet the others will be of an entirely different opinion. Besides that, he is a Grey Warden and that comes in handy when you have to deal with Darkspawn.’

Fenris thumped the table. ‘He is an _abomination_ , Hawke. It may turn out he’ll be far more dangerous than an Archdemon!’

The “Hawke” part stung.

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous; you are terribly exaggerating and you know it.’

They were both growing frustrated because they thought the other one wasn’t willing to see reason. And Hawke extra, because she was forced to defend Anders. She didn’t completely disagree with Fenris. She too was afraid that the Deep Roads would have a bad influence on him, or rather on that sinister spirit he harboured in his mind. But she’d rather drop dead than admit that this very moment. And she was convinced she could keep it under control if that Justice-thing started to make trouble. Nothing a good talking to or, if need be, a resolute whack around the ears couldn’t remedy.

‘You’re only defending him because he is a mage,’ Fenris yelled in despair. His markings flared bright blue.

‘You know that’s completely unfair! You’re acting unreasonable like a little child. And put that light out, damn you, it’s not worth it,’ she yelled back.

‘It’s worth everything,’ he roared. ‘Why can’t you see he is a greater threat than all the Darkspawn together?!’ He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until she saw the truth of it. ‘Just you know I’m not coming with you if you take him along,’ he hissed.

‘Fine,’ she spat, ‘then you stay here and turn brooding into an art. Perhaps you can sell it to the more eccentric nobles around.’ She whirled on her heels and stormed off. Before she had reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a loud crashing sound from breaking glass. Undoubtedly an innocent wine bottle, abruptly ending its life against a wall.

She slammed the front door shut and flopped down on the doorstep, leaning her elbows on her knees and propping her chin in her hands. _Damned elf_. She hated to fight with him, especially over Anders. Why couldn’t he see they needed him? She didn’t know what to do. She was convinced that if she’d go back, the shouting would start again and she was certain she couldn’t cope with that. Falling out with Carver or her mother was different. She didn’t like that either, but at least she was used to it. The same counted for the stupid remarks from her uncle that didn’t even hurt anymore. But Fenris was supposed to be her safe haven. Come to think of it, his mansion, ruined as it might be, had become more of a home to her than Gamlen’s shack. The closest to home since they had to flee Lothering. They had spent a wonderful time in it for the best part of half a week, filled with making love, drinking wine, talking, laughing and reading lessons. He had been reluctant about the latter, almost mortally afraid to make mistakes, which had given her more insight in his former life than words could have done. She had been patient – oh yes, she could be patient for the right reasons – and as she had expected, he picked it up fast. He had confessed about the Fog Warriors who had taken care of him when they stumbled upon him while he was near death, being separated from Danarius because of a Qunari attack. How he had killed them on the demand of the unexpectedly (but then again not) turned up Magister, but had ran away from him afterwards, as if he just then had woken up out of some kind of hypnosis. She had been shocked, not about his deed but about what he had endured. About how his mind had been captured, only to be freed by committing something so terrible it still haunted him. And presumably would for the rest of his life. She knew he was still hiding things, although hiding wasn’t the right expression. He needed time to transform his thoughts and memories – the ones he had and all of them horrible – into words he assumed were right. In words he thought she would understand and would not drive her away. She produced a very bleak smile. He was so scared to drive her away with his history, while he accepted her completely with all her pain and flaws. If only he could see _her_ acceptance...

She wasn’t scared that what they had shared lay in shambles, but she feared for a major setback. Perhaps it was the wisest thing to go back and apologize. Maybe she should even reconsider taking Anders along. Fenris was right, after all; he could be a danger. And she might not be a magical healer, but she could accomplish a lot. She could act like a medic. But was it right to put the wellbeing of so many at stake because of Fenris’s feelings about Anders? And her feelings for the elf...? She stared at the little square where some – most elven – servants had gathered in the midday sun to talk, or presumably gossip. They stood right across Gascard DuPuis’s mansion but he was the last person she wanted to think about right now. At this moment other persons mattered.

And then she heard the door creak open. Not a moment later Fenris sat down next to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said meekly.

She removed her hands from her chin and instead laid them in her lap. Nervously she started fidgeting with her fingers. ‘I’m sorry too.’

‘I shouldn’t have yelled at you –‘ they started simultaneously and laughed somewhat sheepishly about that.

‘If it really upsets you that much, then I leave Anders behind,’ she offered.

‘No, you shouldn’t do that,’ he said with emphasis. ‘You were right, he can be useful.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘My anger had nothing to do with that.’ He tensed, twitching his face, rubbing his hand through it. ‘I believe that – mage,’ (he pronounced the word as something extremely dirty) ‘brings out the worst in me.’ He bit his lip and daren’t glance at her. ‘The way he looks at you, like he undresses you with his eyes. It makes me want to rip his heart out. I have to get over that. I have to learn you will not run to him because of his plight of mages, of him worshipping you and you falling for that.’ He smiled contritely. ‘You are right, I am jealous.’

And again she was shocked and not only with his blunt confession. She did an effort to understand; well, perhaps she _was_ shocked because of that. Was he so unsure? Did he really think she would fall for the idiotic zealous motives Anders loved to wield? And then she understood. Anders was very good with words, he used them as a weapon. The pen mightier than the sword ... That might be true when one wanted to rouse a rebellion, but in her case she preferred Fenris’s way of talking. Perhaps more timid, although he had shouted to make his point clear. Not only shouted but yelled and roared and smashed a bottle to its end. No, he wasn’t timid, he was cautious in picking his words and at the same time completely open. She closed her eyes. _Yes, you do think I would fall for that ludicrousness ... are afraid Anders will spin me in his web with his honeyed words while you, love, seem to be searching for words but in the end are far better with language even though you didn’t know how to read and write. But you are real; with you I know what I get, you don’t have a hidden agenda; you are the ultimate embodiment of honesty. Yes, you pick your words because you know how important they are. And as a wonderful bonus, you can recite the boring Chant of Light and arouse me just by listening to your voice._

And, of course, she knew about jealousy.

‘You’re not the only one,’ she confessed. ‘If Isabela just one more time looks at you as if she not only tries to guess the colour of your underclothes, but wants to tear them off you, I’ll kill her.’

He chuckled softly. Then he turned to her and gave her a tormented look with those irresistible, silvery shining green eyes. His hand rose and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t believe you really love me,’ he said softly.

She considered various replies but stuck to the only one that counted. Wit and irony could only amuse that far. ‘Love is not only about pleasure and sex, but also about comprehension and acceptance,’ she breathed. ‘That we have a disagreement doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.’

“Keep your distance” seemed like a far echo from the past. She had crumbled his defences, torn down the walls, had marched resolutely on until she had conquered his heart. And all he could have done was surrendering to her stubborn persistence to make him see he was a worthwhile being. Valuable enough to argue with.

Without a warning he crashed his lips upon hers in a mind-numbing kiss and almost crushed her in his embrace. He held her as if his life depended upon it and she could swear he swallowed back tears. She answered his kiss with a throaty sob, and before they knew it they were enveloped in a flurry of hungry lips and groping, caressing hands.

They got interrupted by an exalted catcall, counterpointed by the sound of someone violently clearing their throat.

‘Would you please take that kind of behaviour inside, before I’m enforced to arrest you?’ Aveline’s voice rang out.

‘Oh no, do go on!’ Isabela chimed. ‘Can I join in?’

‘Shut up, whore,’ Aveline said venomously, as she had done many times before without result.

They let go of each other, only now realizing they were still sitting, or rather half lying, on the doorstep, their actions for everyone to witness.

‘What are you doing here?’ Hawke asked, flustered.

‘Varric sent us,’ Aveline said morosely. ‘Apparently he has gathered enough money for the expedition and he wants us all to meet in the Hanged Man.’

‘And he couldn’t be bothered to come and announce that himself?’ Hawke tried to readjust her clothes, much to the amusement of Fenris who eyed her with a lopsided smile.

‘As far as I understand, he is busy bickering with his brother over money,’ Aveline said sulkily. ‘But he ensured us that he would be present at the Hanged Man soon, even if it meant he had to bash in Bartrand’s skull.’

Hawke sniggered. ‘I empathize. Alright, we’ll be at the Hanged Man within the hour.’

‘See you there,’ Aveline said, dragging a grinning Isabela with her when she went away.

Fenris took hold of her arm, pulled her up and hauled her inside. They didn’t make it to the bed upstairs.

-

Before they went to the Hanged Man, they stopped at Gamlen’s to pick up Carver; that is to say, if he would be at home. He was, according to the screaming that could be heard from the street below. Apparently he was already informed about the fact that the trip into the Deep Roads was now really going to take place, and it was even clearer that their mother strongly disagreed with him being part of it.

‘Thank the Maker you’re here,’ she exclaimed when she saw her daughter walk through the door. ‘Please convince your brother not to come with you!’

‘Don’t even try!’ Carver barked. ‘I won’t stay behind to be nursed like a baby! Damn it Mother, I’m a grown-up; why can’t you accept that!’

‘I won’t allow both of my children to risk their lives,’ Leandra screeched.

_No, you’d rather I perish down there instead of your precious princeling_ , Hawke couldn’t help thinking but immediately chastised herself. _She’s your mother. She would be devastated if you wouldn’t come back_.

‘Just calm down you two,’ she said. ‘Nothing is decided yet. The only message I received is that the expedition can be financed by now. There are many issues to settle.’ She still hadn’t determined if she wanted to take Carver along. Although he gladly stated he was a grown-up, he ever so often acted immature. And frankly, she didn’t need more than one sword arm. Fenris she could blindly rely upon. Apart from the fact he was her lover and she didn’t want to be separated from him for just a day, let alone several weeks, his skills were better than her brother’s. He was more focused and their cooperation was wonderful. ‘There will only be a meeting to talk about when, where and how, I suppose.’

‘I’m not staying behind,’ Carver raged.

Before her mother could answer, Hawke broke in. ‘Just shut it and come with us. Let’s first hear what Varric has to say.’ While Carver angrily stomped out of the hovel, Hawke laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. ‘I know you are concerned.'

‘Please leave him here,’ Leandra pleaded.

Hawke gave her a half smile. ‘You know that the chance he would come back in one piece from Ostagar was much smaller than the one he will perish in the Deep Roads.’

Her mother started to weep. ‘Marian, I already lost your sister, I can’t bear to lose him too. Or you. But you are so much stronger than he is. Do you think I don’t know it was you who brought him home safe? Don’t take him with you, I beg you!’

Marian was too confused to say anything, she just put her arms around her mother. ‘I will try to keep him here,’ she finally managed. Fenris’s hand on hers brought her back.

‘We have to go,’ he mouthed.

She nodded. ‘I will leave you now but I promise we will talk about this later,’ she said.

Her mother let go off her and sagged in a chair. ‘I don’t want to lose any of you,’ she said.

‘You won’t,’ Marian replied and left the hovel with her elf.

‘Do you yet know what to do with your brother?’ Fenris asked while they walked to the Hanged Man.

Hawke shook her head. She was still thinking about her mother’s reaction and words, not knowing how to interpret them. ‘I’m not inclined to take him along. His stubbornness can put us all in jeopardy. But then again, I’m afraid he will do something utterly stupid when I leave him here.’

‘Like turning you in?’ he asked, frowning.

‘No, more like “proving myself by taunting and fighting the Coterie and getting myself killed”-stupid. It could well be it’s more dangerous for his health to let him stay in Kirkwall than to take him into the Deep Roads. Ugh. I hate making this kind of decisions.’ They had reached the Hanged Man. ‘Well, let’s brace ourselves against a lot of shouting.’

Fenris went ahead on the stairs and entered Varric’s suite. Before she could follow him, someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the door. She met Anders’s eyes. They were not looking happy.

‘What’s going on between you and Fenris?’ He sounded strained and angry. ‘I heard rumours.’

_I would have been surprised if you hadn’t_ , she thought, _since we have been Varric’s birthday- and Satinalia present all in one in the way we offered ourselves on a silver platter, or rather a disarrayed bed_.

Out loud she said, ‘I don’t see why that’s any of your concern.’ She felt annoyed that he dared to approach her like this. ‘Last time I looked, you were still not my guardian.’

‘So it is true. What do you see in a beast like that?! He hates all mages!’

Despite the gloom in the corridor, she could see his face burn red with agitation. ‘Obviously there’s at least one mage he doesn’t hate.’

‘How long do you think it will take before he hurts you!’ He raised his voice. ‘How long before he decides you also have to be wiped away? Someone like him isn’t capable of love!’

She tried to break free. ‘Don’t interfere with my personal life, Anders,’ she warned him. ‘yYu don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m only trying to protect you.’

Once more she yanked her arm away but he held her in a firm grip. ‘You _know_ it will be only a matter of time before he turns on you,’ he beseeched her. ‘He is dangerous, he can’t be trusted. Why can’t you see that?!’

And suddenly Fenris’s voice sounded and she felt his arm around her waist. ‘Let go of her and step away,’ he said in a dark rumbling and very threatening tone.

Anders huffed. ‘I’d never have thought that a _slave_ ’ (he spat the word) ‘would be that possessive.’

Hawke heard Fenris take in a sharp breath and she felt his body go taut. She leaned heavily against him to prevent him from ripping the mage apart. She would very much like to do it for him, but that would lead to nothing but a mess in the corridor and lots of questions. ‘That was low, Anders. Don’t you say anything like that ever again.’ She was furious but tried not to sound like it in an attempt to not madden Fenris even more.

‘Fine! Rush to meet your misfortune! But don’t come complaining to me.’ And with these words he paced past them.

She laid her hand upon Fenris’s arm before he could go after Anders. ‘Don’t. It’s not worth it; he’s just jealous and thus he wants to hit where it hurts.’

‘Marian,’ Fenris said hoarsely, ‘I really want to kill him. And if he touches you one more time, I will.’

She turned and took his face in both hands. ‘Think about it this way: we share each other’s life and love and bodies. And feelings and thoughts. How do you think that makes him feel? This was a desperate and idiotic attempt to win me over. You should pity him, not want him dead.’

He embraced her hard and buried his face in her hair. ‘I’ll try,’ he said, ‘but if we are really forced to face each other for weeks in cramped tunnels, I can’t promise I won’t hit him once or twice.’

‘As long as he is able to get up afterwards, that’s fine with me,’ Hawke chortled.

He kissed her. ‘I’m not used to this,’ he whispered on her lips. ‘As far as I know, I never loved someone. And now that I do, I’m scared to death something goes wrong. On the other hand, I don’t want to be _possessive_.’ He almost choked on the word.

Hawke caressed his cheek. _Oh yes, you are so much better with honest language_. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little possessiveness. I can revel in the swooning way women look at you, knowing that you’re mine. But the moment they would make a move to steal you away from me, I’m afraid I will turn into a frenzied bitch.’

He raised his brows. ‘A frenzied bitch? I would like to see that. Perhaps I should –‘

She put two fingers on his lips to silence him and with a swift and deftly movement he caught them in his mouth. Her breath hitched when he slowly started to suck on them and twirled his tongue around the digits. His eyes, filled with mischief, locked with hers. It reminded her of the first time he touched her, his thumb caressing the palm of her hand, the erotic feelings it had brought up. She couldn’t hold back a soft whimper.

‘Ah, there are my lovebirds. Are you ready to join the meeting or do you want to make use of one of the rooms before that?’ Varric’s voice chimed. ‘I must warn you there’s one grumpy mage in my suite who I could but just convince of the importance of this gathering before he wanted to storm off, so, if you want to blow off steam, do it now.’

Fenris let slip her fingers with the promise of more to come in the privacy of his mansion in his eyes.

‘I think we’ll manage,’ Marian called to the dwarf. ‘Just,’ she let follow, only for Fenris to hear and he grinned.

-

‘Alright, here’s the thing,’ Varric started when he got everyone’s attention. ‘We have the coin to go into the Deep Roads, and the maps, thanks to Blondie. So now we have to decide who is coming.’ He let his eyes roam about the room. ‘Of course we need our leader.’ Hawke was still somewhat flabbergasted about and rejecting against that title, but assumed she had to get used to it, for no one objected. ‘And her lover.’ Now she shot to attention and Fenris with her. Varric examined their reactions. ‘What?’ he said with an innocent face. ‘Do you think there is anyone left who doesn’t know that by now?’

‘And who do we have to thank for that,’ Hawke muttered.

‘I presume we all agree we need the elf’s sword,’ Varric continued, not heeding her remark. ‘And I don’t want to hear any protests from you, Blondie.’ His look lingered upon the mage with a warning expression. Hawke looked straight ahead. _Please, no more_ _hostilities. I’ve had enough of those for at least a month_. But Anders stayed silent. Her brother however didn’t.

‘And what about my sword? Isn’t that good enough?’ he shouted indignantly.

‘Shut up Carver,’ Aveline said. ‘Your sword may be good enough but your attitude isn’t. You’re constantly sulking like a spoiled boy, act however you please and refuse to take orders. If it’d be my decision, I wouldn’t take you down there even if you were the last person in Thedas; you would be a threat to everyone.’

Carver gaped. ‘How dare you!’ he croaked.

‘She is right, Carver,’ Hawke backed Aveline. ‘I simply can’t rely on you. Besides that, I already determined to chose Fenris and Anders, because Aveline has but just become Guard Captain, Isabela likes looting but not underground and Merrill is too busy with her mirror and with that -‘

‘Oh yes, that will be safe! Those two will be constantly at each other’s throats because of you, you horny bitch. The Darkspawn will have – ouch!’

Varric’s fist shot out and hit him square in the face. With uncharacteristically fury he growled, ‘Call you sister that name one more time, you brat, and Bianca will answer.’ He had had an enough difficult day as it was, what with that stupid squabble with Bartrand, and this had been the last straw.

‘I think this kind of proves my point,’ Aveline said.

Carver stared wide-eyed at the dwarf, blood streaming out of his nose, not able to react. Fenris slowly let go of Marian’s arm after he felt the strain in her body falter and he could be certain that she wouldn’t fly across the table to murder her brother. A squabble between those two might be amusing; this was getting out of hand.

‘Oh, look at the poor boy,’ Isabela cooed, ‘all bloody faced. What would Faith say if she’d see you like that?’

Carver’s expression changed from bafflement to panic in an instant as his eyes fluttered to Merrill.

‘Faith?’ the elven girl asked with her innocent voice. ‘I didn’t know you visited the Chantry, Carver.’

For a few heartbeats everyone was perfectly still, so still that the crackling in the hearth seemed to be a roaring fire.

Then Hawke burst into a hysterical fit of laughter, followed suit by the others, except for Carver and a bewildered looking Merrill. ‘What did I say wrong this time?’

‘Nothing, absolutely nothing,’ Hawke hiccupped. ‘O Maker, I think I’m going to die!’ She grasped Fenris’s shoulder, who simply had no choice but to laugh out loud as well.

‘Kitten, you are priceless,’ Isabela guffawed, holding on to Anders who almost doubled up, despite his sour mood not a minute ago. Varric had knocked over his tankard with ale while he desperately tried not to fall from his chair. ‘This is by far the best joke I’ve heard in years,’ he howled after he was more or less capable of speaking again.

‘What is so funny about the Chantry?’ Merrill informed with large eyes, which caused another eruption of hilarity.

‘Please, I can’t take anymore,’ Aveline wheezed.

‘I think Carver can explain that to you,’ Isabela hooted after she had found some breath. ‘He knows every fun part of Faith.’ And this time she keeled over, dragging Anders with her on the floor.

It took almost half an hour before everyone had been able to stop laughing. In the end even Carver had produced a small grin, after it became clear no one was willing to tell Merrill what the excitement was all about. Eventually the small elf had stopped asking, but Hawke had to give it to her that her merry temper didn’t wane.

The meeting still got interrupted with smirks and stifled chuckles and no one was paying much attention. So finally they decided to try again next evening. By that time Carver had already disappeared, followed by a still puzzled Merrill. ‘But I thought Faith was a perfect name for a Chantry Sister,’ they heard her say on the stairs and the snickering started anew.

‘There goes someone who knows how to break the tension,’ Varric sighed. ‘Remind me to buy poor Daisy a nice bunch of flowers.’

‘She wouldn’t understand what for,’ Isabela giggled.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Varric retorted, ‘it will make me feel better.’

When Hawke woke the next day, the muscles in her abdomen still ached.

-

It wasn’t even summer yet and the city of Minrathous already baked in the heat. Gascard DuPuis started to sweat the moment he had disembarked. He didn’t feel much like walking through the dirty decaying streets, so he took a carriage to the Circle of Magi. When he stepped inside the cavernous hallway, he inhaled the cool air and felt the vague tingling sensation of magic all around. He was greeted by a senior mage and immediately brought to the office of Vitellius who had been the Archon for over a decade by now. Vitellius, clad in heavy, dark blue robes, was standing by one of the big arched windows, looking at the city that was covered in a light haze caused by the ever present dust. He turned around when DuPuis entered.

‘I wasn’t expecting you this soon,’ he said with his remarkably high voice. ‘I take it you were successful?’

‘I have found Malcolm Hawke’s daughter,’ DuPuis replied, ‘she lives in Kirkwall.’ An elven slave entered with a tray with refreshments and put it on the table sitting in the middle of the room. Vitellius waved her off.

‘And Malcolm Hawke himself?’

‘I’m sorry to report that he is dead.’

‘Dead?’ The Archon moved to the table. He poured two glasses of wine and offered DuPuis one. ‘How?’

‘I haven’t been able to find out yet. What I did discover, however, is that the daughter also is a mage.’ He took an olive and chewed thoughtfully. ‘A very strange one, apparently.’ He told the Archon what he had learned while overhearing the two conversations, and ended, ‘She claims she knows little to nothing, but I’m not convinced. She was, understandably, on her guard against the Seeker and I don’t think she wants to tell her lover everything.’ He hadn’t mentioned who the lover was.

‘You have been very useful,’ the Archon said after some silence. ‘We will take it from here. You can return to Val Royeaux with some information the Seekers will find interesting. Go to my secretary; he will hand you a sealed letter and, of course, your payment.’

DuPuis smiled inwardly when he left the building. Certainly he had some interesting information, about Vitellius himself no less, that even the Divine herself would find interesting. But that could wait. First he had to visit a certain Magister who would find the whereabouts of his costly runaway slave even more of interest.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think, personally, the Deep Roads are dreary and depressing, but I couldn't skip that particular part of the story because of a certain discovery. I have tried to make it as short as possible. And as pleasant as possible...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 15

-

Long after Gascard Dupuis had left, Danarius still sat in his study. He pensively tapped with his fingers on the polished wood of his desk, thinking about his next step. His first plan had been to send a band of slavers to Kirkwall, but he had dismissed the idea at the same time. He had sent dozens of slavers before and the elf had managed every time to stay out of their hands. He had received no word from the last group and feared now that they had been killed to the last man. Apparently his little wolf had found friends. And a mate. Not just any mate, but the daughter of the great Malcolm Hawke, of all people. He smiled devilishly. DuPuis’s information had been worth every piece of gold the man had been rewarded with. Danarius highly doubted the Archon was willing to share that precious knowledge with him. He was certain Vitellius would want to catch this Marian Hawke for himself, to squeeze every last bit of information out of her. A mage without mana, he could hardly believe it, in fact he didn’t believe it at all. More likely Malcolm had used some trick on her. It must have been an extremely clever and intricate one, but then again, Hawke had been a very intelligent and able man. He still felt a twang of anger and regret the man had turned down the offer of becoming his apprentice. But now he happened to have produced a very interesting daughter ... Hawke wouldn’t have done something to mask her magic if she weren’t very powerful.

Danarius wondered what kind of measures Vitellius would take to get his hands on Marian Hawke, for he doubted not for a second that was the Archon’s intention and he had to beat him to it. Certainly sending some kind of army to Kirkwall to capture her would be none of them. He knew the city was not very pleased with the wave of Ferelden refugees that had engulfed her after the Blight, but there was no better way to change a refugee into an esteemed citizen than a Tevinter attack on them. For reasons he could not fathom, magic and slavery were despised outside Tevinter. Therefore an army would be out of the question. More likely the Archon would use spies or scouts. His eye fell upon the bodyguard standing next to the door. He was human and not a slave. And definitely not infused with lyrium. Danarius had not tried that experiment again; it had cost him greatly to find the one person who had had the strength to endure the process and he didn’t intend to repeat that search for someone else while he was still chasing his run-away success. Before he’d be recaptured – and he was sure that would happen – he had to make do with this hired human muscle. No, he was no spy material. In his mind he ticked off the candidates. Hadriana? No. A good apprentice and a promising Magister but she lacked the needed stealth and subtlety. Should he hire an Antivan Crow? Tempting, but they were more into assassination than shadowing and taking persons captive, although that was part of their tactics. And besides that, he didn’t want to involve Antiva in this problem.

Danarius snapped his fingers and the bodyguard sprang into attention. ‘Wine,’ he ordered. The man (he couldn’t remember his name because of total disinterest; after all the man was just a short replacement in the string of many replacements until his pet would have been delivered back) disappeared in an instant and came back with a slave in tow. He retook his place by the door while the slave put a glass on the desk and filled it with Aggrigio Parvali. With a low bow he retreated, leaving the bottle behind. Could he make use of the Seeker, Danarius mused. Both he and the mage from Ferelden would keep a close eye on Malcolm’s daughter and thus on his pet. He knew the mage, not personally of course, but he had read enough reports to know that it would be very difficult to manipulate her, and not only because she was protected by a spirit. She was one of the few people he had heard of that couldn’t be corrupted. That was a pity, because although DuPuis had stated Marian Hawke had given away close to nothing, it would be interesting to learn more about her suspicions. After all Wynne had known Malcolm Hawke. She had discovered his secret notes. He would give his right arm to see those. But this Berran knew as much as she did and perhaps he could be persuaded to spill some of that knowledge by the promise of money or power. Most people couldn’t resist that.

His fingers burned with the desire to get Malcolm’s daughter into his grip. At this very moment he couldn’t define who he wanted more, her or his valuable run-away slave. He took a sip from his expensive wine. Both would be absolutely brilliant. He would even consider letting them reproduce; a child born out of them could be mightier than the most talented Magister. If guided in the right direction, that child could be the perfect weapon to wield against the Archon, the senate, the Qunari and the rest of the world. The perfect weapon to restore the power of the Tevinter Imperium and take over the world once again. With him as the ruler.

And then, suddenly, he remembered the one person qualified for the job. Not an Antivan Crow, but as close as it could get. And with no political strings attached. The one with the training but without the connections. He even knew his whereabouts because, other than his fellow Magisters, he had very closely followed the outcome of the Blight that had started and soon after that had been smothered in Ferelden. In this matter Hadriana could come in handy, acting as his envoy. It went without saying the assassin must not know he would work for a Tevinter Magister. If he’d play this right, he would within a few weeks not only be in the repossession of his priceless slave, but also have the most intriguing mage in Thedas in his grasp. He ordered his bodyguard to send for Hadriana and took another sip of his wine.

Danarius leaned contented back in his chair and his devious smile broadened.

-

The wizened dwarf finally got up and said, ‘There, it’s done. Try to make that – woman break it.’

‘It will be my pleasure,’ Isabela tittered and she retrieved a pair of lock picks out of the folds of her almost non-existent clothes. While she examined her, Hawke realized she wore more leather boots on her legs than fabric to cover the rest of her body. After about half an hour later the pirate had to give up. Fenris had folded his arms and by now waited patiently for some kind of miracle or an outburst from Isabela. Hawke leaned happily against his frame, watching the pirate's efforts. The dwarf looked upon the scene with distant interest, apparently already knowing he would be on the better end of the bargain. He had been recommended to them by Varric and after Isabela had done several attempts to catch them in the heat of the moment over the last week, Fenris had decided it was indeed time to have a decent lock placed on his door. Making love to Marian had become some game of hide-and-seek and he was tired of it. Especially after the suspicion they had been watched by DuPuis, it had been an extremely disturbing idea Isabela would do the same. It had been Hawke’s idea to have that lock tested by the pirate queen herself since she was the best at it. He felt much better to see Isabela had wasted her last set of lock picks without result.

‘No more peeking for you,’ Hawke said while she gratefully paid the grinning dwarf.

‘I can find other methods,’ Isabela threatened.

‘Don’t even try. We have again taken up the habit of sleeping with our weapons close at hand. Not because of you, mind you, although I really wanted to kill you last morning. But you never know when deadly enemies pop up. And you can be mistaken for one of those,’ she added ominously.

After they had shooed Isabela away, they retreated with a bottle of white wine into the garden that Fenris liked to call his private jungle. The place was as wild as the mansion was dilapidated, but Hawke rather liked the high grown trees, shot up bushes and wild flowers. It indeed looked more like a forest than a garden; it made her think of the surroundings of Lothering. For a while they just sat on the blanket they had dragged outside because neither of them trusted the rickety wooden bench, taking in the scenery, listening to the light breeze that rustled through the leafs and the calls of the birds inhabiting the trees, enjoying the fine weather and each other’s company.

Fenris was the first to break the silence. ‘I had again a flash of fast fleeting memories.’

Hawke started. ‘What? When?’

‘This morning. I drifted off, just like you. And then they came, and went as quickly.’

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘You were sleeping so peacefully, it seemed a sin to wake you up.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘You needn’t be concerned, it wasn’t as frightening as the first time. Just looking at you brought me back my calmness, to be honest.’ He reached out and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. ‘It was inevitable it would happen again, I suppose. I will have to get used to it and, who knows, maybe there comes a moment that the remembrance lingers.’

‘I truly hope so.’ She let her fingers trace his beautiful chiselled jaw line.

He planted a soft kiss on her lips. ‘Frankly, at this moment I don’t know what I fear the most: that my memories disappear before I can grasp them, or that I have to confront them. Who knows what they will show me.’

‘But they are a part of your history, of yourself.’

‘Exactly.’

Hawke considered this, trying to comprehend. ‘You may not remember anything from before the markings, but you have made a mental picture of what it could have been. A ... kind of waking dream so to say. And now you are afraid that those images will be ripped apart if they are replaced with the truth.’

He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. He loved doing that; holding her close, smelling that faint rosemary scent; radiating his affection and at the same time being able to hide his feelings and expression. He didn’t have to say she was right because she knew. It was as she had said, what he had feared this very morning when he had woke up with a racing heart and labouring respiration, realising it had happened again. This time his panic hadn’t been focused on that _it had_ happened, but more on _what would_ happen if he’d ever find out what his life had been before the markings. What that would do to him. As she had guessed, he had spun a fantasy about freedom and a loving family that due to Danarius had fallen apart. He had imagined parents, siblings. It had been the only way to survive the life he had been forced to live. If his memories would prove that he had been a slave all along, that he had nothing of worth to fall back on, no love, no embrace of family – and then he had looked at her sleeping frame. Like he had done the first time. But this time it had given him so much comfort that he had actually cried. _She_ was his family now, the fulfilment of that dream. She accepted him the way he was, loved him even for it. It frightened him at first, because he didn’t know if he could live up to her expectations, but then the realisation struck that she loved him because of him, with all his faults. She had made that very clear. And at that moment he finally could breathe again. He still couldn’t find the right words to tell her that, but he was certain she understood. There was so much she understood. And he wanted to understand _her_. It brought him to the question that had lingered in his mind for some time now.

‘Was I the first after ... after –‘ he couldn’t find the right word. To his relief she chuckled softly.

‘Haven’t you heard the wonderful romantic stories Varric tells about me?’

‘Yes, and I know the dwarf can’t separate truth form lies; or rather, he likes to let his fantasy get the better of him.’ She chuckled again and he revelled in the resonation it made against his chest.

‘No, you weren’t the first and you should be glad about it. I kind of had a nervous break-down. I cried my eyes out. It was a complete disaster.’

He held her closer, on the verge of strangling her. ‘Then I can only hope the man you were with understood.’

After a short silence she said, ‘He did. The whole of Lothering knew what had happened. Most inhabitants sympathised. After all, my father had always been held in high esteem because of his healing abilities. No one cared he was a mage; I told you before even the Templars turned a blind eye. Almost no one knew I was a mage as well, but I doubt they would have been bothered. The man I’m referring to knew but couldn’t care less. He was the eldest son of the town’s blacksmith, a blacksmith himself. He always stated that his profession used some kind of unidentified magic itself. And yes, he was patient, endured my fit of hysterics.’ She produced something between a sob and a laugh. ‘He taught me how to enjoy the act of love-making again, he restored my broken trust. He even asked me to marry him.’

For some reason that hurt. A man asking his Marian to become his wife. But then he acknowledged her strange way of stating this fact. And of course it was ridiculous to be jealous of someone she had been with before he had even met her. ‘What was your answer?’ He tried to sound as neutral as possible.

She sighed. ‘I never got the chance to answer. That is to say, I raced with Carver to Ostagar the day after the question. And when we returned, the Blight happened. He was killed in the fray and I and my family nearly managed to escape.’ She swallowed and he felt her face twitch under his caressing fingers.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I wanted to turn him down but didn’t know how without hurting him deeply. He didn’t deserve to be hurt; he was a good man.’ She took a breath and pulled herself upright, facing him. He was shocked by the pain in her eyes. ‘Fenris, I wanted so hard to love him back in the way he was worthy of. But he – he saw me as a housewife, the woman who would carry his children. It drove me mad. He wanted to protect me, keep me from the pain I had had to suffer. He truly loved me, but as some kind of fragile flower or butterfly. That was not what I wanted. I ... I,’ her voice faltered.

Now it was his turn to comprehend. ‘You were angry with yourself that you couldn’t be able to return his feelings after he had been so understanding,’ he said. And there was more of course. ‘And also because you hadn’t been able to prevent what happened before, that you were a victim, that you were forced to be a victim. That you were powerless to act, that you just let it happen. That you couldn’t save your father. You still are. Angry with yourself, I mean.’

Somehow he had been prepared for her reaction. He had seen the forebodings in her heated reactions against the Seeker and her brother. All those feelings, carefully hidden away, suddenly surfaced. She was in a heartbeat but a puddle of tears, clutching his shoulders, weeping like there would be no end to it. He just held her, occasionally drawing his fingers through her hair, at some point wondering what the blacksmith’s son had done to calm her down after the dam broke. All this time she had been there for him and one simple question – _simple! You idiot; you should have known_! – broke her down. He felt miserable he had caused this, even though it wasn’t a bad thing. Finally her crying reduced to shuddering intakes of breath.

‘Forgive me, I never should have asked,’ he whispered.

She quivered again. ‘I’m glad you did. It was about time this happened, although I didn’t intend to burden you with it. I’m sorry I did.’

He tilted her head with one hand and with the thumb of the other one stroked tenderly her damp cheeks. ‘Sometimes,’ he smiled, ‘you say the strangest things.’

She reciprocated his smile, though a little watery. She nestled back in his arms and allowed peace to come down on her. Peace only her wolf could give her.

-

That same evening she had hardly set a foot in the Hanged Man when Carver as good as pounced upon her. He had evidently been waiting for her to arrive.

‘Sister, we have to talk,’ he said, urgently. She sighed inwardly, knowing there was no avoiding this conversation. This was necessary to clear the air between them and she could only hope it wouldn’t end in again a serious battle. She would do anything to prevent that. She nodded reassuringly at a concerned looking Fenris. ‘Go ahead to Varric’s suite,’ she said, ‘we will follow soon.’ And to her brother, ‘Come, let me buy you a pint.’

Not a moment after they were seated at the counter, Carver opened the negotiations. ‘First I want to apologize for what I called you the other night. I shouldn’t have done that and for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean it.’

She could accuse him for trying to get on her good side, but one look upon his face taught her he was genuinely sorry. He had always been very bad at hiding his feelings; she could read his face like a book. ‘That’s all right, Carver. We were all a bit tense.’

‘Yes, I know. Nevertheless ...’ He took the mug Corff offered him. ‘Listen Marian, I really don’t want to stay behind. I understand why you take Fenris and Anders with you –‘ She wanted to interrupt him but he cut her short with an impatient gesture of his hand, ‘No, let me finish. I know there are not enough supplies, but what if I provide for my own?’

Her brows formed two perfect accolades. He produced a purse, clinking with coin and Hawke almost panicked. ‘Oh Carver, don’t tell me you have contracted a loan with the Carta-’

‘I worked for it. The past week I have laboured every day in the Bone Pit. This is my week’s pay, enough to buy the supplies needed for the Deep Roads.’

Marian’s jaw dropped. ‘You _what_?!’ She had to hold on to the counter not to fall from her stool in pure astonishment. ‘Does it mean that much to you?’ _Did I misjudge you that badly_?

‘It does,’ he answered gravely. ‘I know what you think. That I just want to prove that I’ve grown up, that I’m as mature as you are. Your equal. But even if that were true – _is_ true, it’s not the only reason. Look, you came with me to Ostagar to protect me, even though you knew the risks. I want to return the favour. It’s the least I can do. Please let me come with you, I promise I will follow your orders without questioning them.’

She pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know what to say so, to buy time, she came up with the first remark that sprang into mind. ‘It doesn’t solve the Mother Problem.’

Carver’s expression flashed with an angry twitch but he restrained himself. He said in a rational tone, ‘Must I be pampered by her for the rest of my life? Be treated as the little boy she can’t be parted from? _You_ are not concerned about what she says, you go your own way. I think it’s time for me to do the same.’

‘Carver,’ she started, laying her hand upon his. She took a breath, letting everything he had said sink into her mind. Maker, he was trying hard! And getting results, if he had been willing to be a miner to make his point. ‘You are right. You proved yourself more by taking a job at the depressing Bone Pit to earn your place in the expedition, than whatever heated plea could have done. I will talk to Varric.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘And yes, Mother will have to get used to two grown-ups.’

End of the story was that Carver joined the expedition to everyone’s agreement, their mother had a serious seizure to no avail and two days later they marched off, hoping to return as the nouveau riche of Kirkwall.

-

Hawke heavily slumped down on the steps of the stairs leading to the altar, or whatever it was, where they had found that blasted idol. She waited for Varric to stop ranting about his brother.

‘And now?’ Carver said after the dwarf eventually had fallen silent, all his curse words spent or, more presumably, because he had run out of breath.

Marian looked up. ‘We ration our supplies and try to find a way out.’ She turned to Anders. ‘I don’t suppose you know where we are and, more importantly, where to go for an exit?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ the healer replied, ‘I stole the maps but I never took the time to study them properly.’

‘Why did you take them in the first place? Were you planning on a pleasant stroll on your own down here, have a nice chat with the Darkspawn, teaching them how to play wicked grace?’

Anders snorted. ‘I just wanted to annoy the Wardens. They made me get rid of my cat, I pinched their precious maps. An act of petty revenge, I know, but it still felt good.’

Hawke automatically looked at Fenris, expecting some nasty remark, but the elf stayed silent. To her relief both he and Anders had done their best not to step on each other’s toes. They had been avoiding one another as much as possible. The occasionally shared glances weren’t exactly evidence of warm friendship, but at least they had buried the hatchet – for now. Marian hoped with all her might that this new worrying situation wouldn’t lead to the reopening of hostilities.

‘I can’t understand why the bloody nug-licker did this,’ Varric shouted with a last kick against the very closed door. ‘Hawke, you touched that blighted statue. What did you feel?’

‘Even without touching it I could sense it was infused with some evil magic,’ Anders muttered. ‘Red lyrium, that doesn’t bode well.’

‘It did feel strange,’ Hawke had to admit, ‘I don’t know how to describe it. As if it wanted to tap into my mind. But you know my relation with magic and lyrium, I can’t be certain. And then again, even if it _was_ evil magic, how could it influence a dwarf? And on such short notice?’

‘Red lyrium,’ Anders repeated. ‘I must admit I don’t know much about the stuff, but what I do know is that it’s very dangerous. It plays on your fears and desires. It could even affect a dwarf. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, there is not much documentation on the subject.’

‘And what about you?’ Varric asked Fenris. ‘You lived among Magisters, you must know something!’

Fenris put up his hands in a rueful way. ‘The only lyrium I’ve heard of is white. Like branded into my flesh. I’m afraid I cannot help you here.’

‘I think it’s wiser to find a way out of here instead of philosophize why Bartrand went bonkers,’ Hawke said. ‘We will have time enough to discuss that topic when we have returned to Kirkwall safely.’

‘You are right as usual,’ Varric sighed. ‘Let’s move then.’

-

They lost track of time while they wandered through the tunnels and caverns of the Deep Roads, fighting Dark Spawn, demons and even profanes. And everything lighted up with the eerie light of red lyrium. They were careful not to touch the stuff, but inevitably the sinister illumination began to play on their mood as much as the bleak circumstances did. They got tired, hungry, desperate at times and, in Hawke’s case, absolutely sexually frustrated.

She struggled against it, calling herself a moron for wanting to jump Fenris, claw the clothes of his irresistible superb body and devour him. _Control yourself, remember where you are, and why. Turn your lust into anger and will of survival_. But it didn’t help. It drove her completely crazy and at last she submitted. She couldn’t understand why exactly this had become such an obsession amongst all the other needs, but she couldn’t fight it any longer. She fell back and trailed slowly after the others, her whole body aching with want. As she had expected, it didn’t take long before Fenris waited for her to catch up.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked anxiously. ‘I mean other than being lost and most likely going to perish down here?’

She grabbed his arm. ‘I need you. I want you. Now. I can’t take it anymore,’ she hissed. She pushed her frame into his, grinding her hips against his length, feeling him growing hard in an instant. He tried to shove her away but she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips upon his.

‘We can’t do this here,’ he croaked.

‘I don’t see why not.’

She claimed his lips once more and he gave in, opening his mouth for her, swirling his tongue around hers. Her fingers tightened around his erect shaft which earned her a heated growl that drowned in her throat. They had to break away from each other in order not to choke and Fenris took the opportunity to cast a quick look around. Not only did he notice the others had disappeared around a bend, but also found a perfect spot. Well, decent in any way, although decent was perhaps not the right word in this case. He dragged Hawke behind a huge stalactite and pushed her against a boulder. He got rid of his gauntlets and opened the fastenings of her armour. He cupped a breast, squeezing the soft flesh, rubbing his thumb over her nipple while he kissed and nibbled and bit her neck. She threw her head back, revelling in the hot feeling that his fingers, lips and teeth caused her. Just in time he caught a loud groan with his mouth, turning it into another ferocious kiss. It wasn’t tender, but right now she didn’t want tenderness; right now she wanted brutal and unbridled passion.

‘Take me,’ she panted, ‘for the Maker’s sake Fenris, take me before I go up in flames!’

He flipped her and almost in the same movement tore down her pants while he unlaced his leggings and bent her over the boulder. He didn’t have to feel her wetness to know how ready she was, he could smell it and it aroused him even more, though he wouldn’t have thought that possible. He had been yearning for her as much as she had been for him.

He plunged into her with the craving of someone who had been lost in a desert, dived into an unexpected oasis. He started a punishing pace, encouraged by the keening sounds she produced; one hand holding and kneading one of her breasts, the other trailing down her stomach until his fingers found her hard nub and played around it, over it, with it. He felt her body tremble and then go taut. It was like a volcano just before it erupted. He let go of her breast and put his hand over her mouth to stifle the strident cry she let go when her orgasm hauled her body into a wild release. And moments later bit his lip till it bled when his own peak almost knocked him out. He fell upon her and it took them several minutes to regain their wits. When he slipped out of her, she turned to kiss him with a gratified smile.

‘This was wonderful, exactly what I needed,’ she whispered, ‘thank you.’ She embraced him and pushed her face in the crook of his shoulder. ‘Do you think they noticed?’

‘Nah,’ he smiled, still slightly out of breath, ‘I’m sure they haven’t. But we’d better catch up with them before they get suspicious.’ He helped her to straighten her clothes and tie her armour again; he fastened his leggings, put on his gauntlets and stole a last kiss.

They turned and came face to face with two flustered human males and one wide grinning dwarf.

‘At any other occasion I would have said “get a room”,’ Varric commented to Carver and Anders as if the two offenders weren’t able to hear him. ‘But to my dismay the Deep Roads are no inn, let alone the Hanged Man. Rooms are not available, you just have to make do with what you can get. I must give it to them, they where resourceful.’ He clapped both men on the lower back. ‘Get over it you two. I’m only surprised it didn’t happen sooner.’

Marian grabbed Fenris’s hand and marched past the two glaring men and the still smirking dwarf without looking at them, her head held high, her nose in the air. It was all Fenris could do to keep a straight face.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahum, like I said, as pleasant as possible..!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the Deep Roads, but, like I promised, we will not linger long in that rotten place.
> 
> And again there will be some sex. Perhaps I should have warned you beforehand, but there will be plenty of the stuff along the line. On the other hand, the rating of the story should have told you that much. Hope you don't feel offended.

Chapter 16

-

The rest of the day, or night, or whatever part of the twenty-four hours it might be, they walked in silence, Hawke gradually loosening her stiff upper lip. Now and again she caught a glimpse of mischievous merriment in Fenris’s eyes and she had to admit she felt rather giddy herself. For some reason being caught in the act, so to put it, by Varric, Anders and Carver had been far less dreadful than the prospect of being spied upon by DuPuis or even Isabela. The look upon their faces had been priceless. On the other hand, embarrassment played its significant part in how she avoided talking or even looking at the others. Nevertheless, she felt the glowering sidelong glances her brother cast at her and she didn’t have to look to know that Anders was almost combusting with anger and Varric still wore that maddening smirk.

After they decided to set camp, Hawke sat down next to Carver. At first he pretended not to notice her; he rummaged around in his pack as if he was convinced he would find a hitherto concealed piece of delicious Orlesian cheese instead of just dried meat.

‘Alright, just say it, I know you want to,’ she said.

‘Say what? That it was highly disturbing to see you two going at it like rabbits? To see my own sister being taken like a – like a ...’ His voice trailed off.

‘It wasn’t that we invited you as spectators, you know,’ she couldn’t help commenting.

He turned to her, his eyes ablaze. ‘You weren’t with us any longer; we were afraid something might have happened. To be honest, I was dead worried. Traipsing through the Deep Roads isn’t exactly a nice stroll in Hightown. But instead of finding you fighting with Darkspawn, you were acting like the next brothel wench.’

‘Like Faith?’ she said sweetly and he looked furiously at her. She sighed. ‘You are right, I guess,’ she said meekly, ‘and I‘m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted him so badly after all this time of continence, I couldn’t-‘

‘Please, spare me the details. I’ve seen you put that want into practice. That was more than enough. I don’t think I’ll be able to get that out of my system any time soon.’ He fidgeted with his fingers. ‘Speaking of Faith, I suppose I have to thank you for not giving me away.’

Hawke grinned. ‘Carver, it’s so obvious that you have feelings for Merrill. What I don’t understand is why you don’t just tell her.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s hard.’

‘Try giving her some flowers, you know how much she loves those. Go on a picnic. But _do_ something instead of working off your frustrations in the Blooming Rose.’ She studied her brother’s face and frowned. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

‘As good as one can down here. Why?

‘You look pale.’ And not only that; there were dark lines under his eyes.

‘You can tell in this light? I suppose no one looks their best at the moment. I feel tired. At the risk of sounding pathetic, I just want to go home.’

‘You don’t sound pathetic,’ Marian said softly, ‘I feel the same.’

-

At last, what seemed after weeks of hiking and fighting, they entered a room that looked artificially made. Here also the red lyrium was present as a sickly glowing fungus but the columns still bore the witness of ancient dwarven carvings. Hawke looked around in amazement while they crossed the vast space. ‘This looks very different from the other parts of the Deep Roads,’ she remarked. ‘And quite impressive too.’

‘I think this was the vault,’ Varric explained. ‘It could well be that the dwarfs of old kept –‘

Before he could end his sentence, something that had seemed nothing more than a heap of rubble. suddenly rose and transformed into a deadly form of living rock. But otherwise than golems, this – apparition looked as if it was built out of solitary stones, held together by an unseen force. In the middle of it all, a glowing ribcage and something that might be a pounding heart could be seen.

‘What the fuck!’ Hawke blurted. ‘Living stones?!’

‘Nice expression for a woman who uses a rock as a love nest,’ Varric shouted back before he let loose a volley.

‘You bastard!’ Hawke yelled. It wasn’t clear whether she addressed the dwarf or the creature, but she turned it into a battle cry the moment she charged.

Very soon she found out her daggers were of little use against rock. Just as Varric’s bolts didn’t cause any visible injury. Anders tried spell after spell with some result, but nothing seemed to harm the creature much. Then again, he was more a healer than a battle mage. Even the deftly sword handling of both Fenris and Carver could cause little damage. And, of course, shades and profanes appeared out of seemingly nothing to add to the bedlam. Marian decided she had no other choice than to use her magic. It would leave her completely spent for a dangerous amount of time, but she hoped to end the creature in one big blast. Or at least weaken it enough for the others to kill it.

‘Varric, Anders, focus on the shades and other evils,’ she ordered, yelling. ‘I will deal with this.’ She jumped back a few yards and started to concentrate on the Fade, assembling as much energy she could. The moment she unleashed her spell, she realised her error. She had chosen for an ice enchantment to freeze the entity and at the same time perforate it with icicles. But precisely one moment too late she discovered her mistake. The same time she let loose her spell, the thing seemed to explode with electricity and it turned against her. The electricity made contact with the frozen water, used it as a conductor and sent her flying through the air. She hit the floor with force, bumping her temple on the stony underground. Everything went black in an instant.

Carver had grasped Fenris, who seemed to have gone completely berserk, by the wrist. He hauled the elf with him while he dived behind the broad pillar where Varric and Anders already had taken shelter to protect themselves against the explosion. Only after the blast was over, the elf saw with horror his lover lying motionless in the middle of the room. He broke free from Carver’s hold.

‘Marian! No!’ he roared. He started running to her.

‘No elf!’ Varric bellowed. ‘First kill that thing before it finishes us all off!’

Reluctantly Fenris had to admit the dwarf was right and, although every sinew in his body screamed to go to Marian, he threw himself with all his strength for a second time upon the monster. With a frenzied fury he hacked at the floating, stubborn stones, trying to reach the glowing centre. It seemed to take ages, but finally the rockwraith fell apart and sort of died, or at least ceased to exist.

Fenris dropped his sword and raced over to where Marian lay unmoving. Blood trickled down her face. Her eyes were closed and she looked deadly pale. He ripped off his gauntlets, dropped on his knees and laid his hand in her neck, franticly searching for a heartbeat. He found none and his blood froze. He pressed his thumb on the inside of her wrist – still nothing. He lifted her head with one hand and with trembling fingers he stroked her face.

‘Marian, can you hear me? Say something!’ he pleaded. No reaction. His heart started hammering. ‘No!’ he cried out desperately. ‘I won’t allow it!’

The others stared in shock. Carver shoved Anders. ‘Heal her!’ he yelled. ‘That’s why you came along!’

‘I, I can’t, I can’t bring the dead back,’ Anders stuttered. But then he composed himself. That the elf thought she was gone, didn’t mean it was true. Fenris was no healer, he was just being hysterical.

The moment Anders started to move, Marian stirred. She let out a soft grunt and opened her eyes. Fenris sagged with relief. ‘That was not the smartest thing I ever did,’ she groaned. Her swimming vision became clear and her look fell upon the face hovering above her. ‘Fenris? What’s wrong?’

He helped her to sit and dragged her in his arms. He breathed heavily, trying not to break out in tears. ‘For a moment I thought ... I’ve never been so scared in my life,’ he stammered with a choked voice.

‘What? Did you think –‘ He didn’t let her finish but attacked her lips with a feverish kiss.

‘If you need another stalactite and useful boulder, just mention it and we will find a quiet place to play wicked grace until you’re done,’ Varric said dryly but they didn’t hear him. The dwarf shrugged and wandered off, hoping to find some clue to bring them back to the surface.

‘Let me take a look at that,’ Fenris said, examining her bloodied temple, sniffing his emotions away.

‘Perhaps I can be of use,’ Anders said, carefully approaching them. You never knew if the elf suddenly decided to take the whole situation out on him. Carver followed him, anxious to know his sister was really alright.

‘I’m fine,’ she waved the healer off, ‘nothing a good bath can’t remedy. Let’s go and see what Varric has discovered. I can hear his excited cries from here.’ She stood up and immediately everything started to spin. She would have fallen but for Fenris who still held her. ‘Bloody hell,’ she groused.

‘Yes, perfectly fine,’ Anders said sarcastically. ‘Now sit down and let me examine you.’

Hawke leaned gratefully back in Fenris’s arms while Anders pressed his fingers carefully around the broken skin on her temple, well aware of the suspicious looks of the elf. Marian felt the tingling sensation of healing magic floating over the spot. ‘A small crack in your skull,’ Anders concluded, ‘but not all too serious. You should take some rest, though.’

‘Excellent advice,’ Hawke sneered, ‘but I don’t like the idea of loafing about in this place, despite the wonderful ambience. Just hand me a healing potion. If it makes you feel better, I promise I will go and lie down the moment we reach Kirkwall. Although I doubt I’ll get much rest by doing that,’ she added with a wicked grin. Anders cringed.

‘I could carry you,’ Fenris offered.

‘Don’t even think about it; I’m not some frail maiden!’ Hawke said indignantly.

‘You’re certainly not a maiden,’ Carver muttered under his breath.

Before Marian could react, Varric came running back. ‘Didn’t you hear me shout? Should I hire the Town Crier or an Orlesian party orchestra? Should I strip and dance the Remigold naked before I get your attention? By all the demons in the Void, you’re not going to believe this!’

What the dwarf had discovered was nothing less than a treasure. Besides some sort of key that could help them get out of this dreadful place, there were heaps of gold and trinkets, worth a fortune.

After they were done gaping, Carver breathed, ’We’ll never be able to take that with us.’

‘No, Junior,’ Varric agreed, ‘we have to send more parties down here, many more, but it will be worth the effort and the cost.’

‘We’ll take with us what we can carry,’ Hawke decided, ‘but don’t be too greedy. Who knows how far we still have to go and gold weights a lot.’

She started to scoop up golden coins when her eye fell on a piece of leather that got revealed when she pushed aside a few gem encrusted cups. She pulled at it and brought out something that looked like a plain leather cover, folded in two. But when she opened it, it turned out to be a map. It showed drawings of plains, mountains, cities, and dots that might be towns or settlements. She stared at it in puzzlement.

‘Looks familiar, doesn’t it,’ Varric’s voice sounded while he peeked over her shoulder.

‘This is a map of Ferelden,’ Hawke said, astonished. ‘What the hell is this doing here?’

‘Perhaps it points to a place where we can find even more treasure?’ Varric suggested.

‘Yeah, right, a treasure map,’ Hawke grinned, mocking. ‘The pirate queen starts to rub off on you.’

Varric stabbed with a stubby finger on the down right corner. ‘Could be a clue.’

Some scribbling could be seen but it was unreadable in the dim light. ‘We’ll take this with us right now and study it when we have the time,’ Hawke said while she stuffed the leather map in her pack. She turned to the others. ‘Like I told before, grab not too much gold, and save the rest for when we’re able to retrieve it.’

To her enormous relief the key fitted on the sealed doorway. ‘Let’s find a way out of here as fast as possible. I’ve had more than enough of the Deep Roads.’

-

Late afternoon Fenris heard her coming up the stairs of his mansion and the sound of her slow dragging footsteps already told the story before she got into his sight.

‘I take it it didn’t go well,’ he said when she entered his room. She threw the pack she still carried on the floor and when she looked at him, her face was filled with infinite sadness. He opened his arms and she walked into them.

‘No. She more or less chased me away. And, of course, it is all my entire fault.’ She leaned her head upon his shoulder and he pulled her close.

‘You know it isn’t.’ He had suggested coming with her when she went off to tell her mother about Carver’s fate, but she had turned his offer down, saying she had to face this alone.

‘Isn’t it? Again I haven’t been able to hold my promise to keep them save. Again I lost someone.’ Her voice sounded tormented.

‘I don’t see how you could have protected Carver from the taint.’ He dragged his fingers though her hair, still matted and tangled after the many weeks in the Deep Roads.

‘I never should have allowed him to come with us. He should have stayed in Kirkwall.’

‘Like you pointed out before, there was a big chance he would have ended up dead in that scenario. Do you think your mother wouldn’t have blamed you for that? Or you yourself?’

She let out a deep breath. ‘You’re probably right.’

He could feel she was biting back tears. ‘Then stop with the “it’s my entire fault” nonsense. Carver isn’t dead, he is a Grey Warden now.’

‘Could as well be dead, if he hasn’t survived that mysterious initiation ritual,’ she murmured.

‘I said, stop it,’ Fenris said sternly. He squeezed her shoulders and continued more gently, ‘I think I know what you need right now.’

She lifted her head. ‘Do you now?’

‘Yes.’ He smiled, took her hand and led her downstairs to the washing room behind the kitchen. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the bathtub filled with steaming water and recognized the aroma of rosemary.

‘You do indeed,’ she beamed. She embraced him. ‘I’ve been longing intensely for a decent bath! Oh Fenris, you’re the best.’

In a hurry she got rid of her filthy armour and dirty underclothes and sank with a deep grateful sigh into the hot water. She closed her eyes in pure bliss.

‘There are towels and fresh clothes for when you’re finished,’ Fenris said. ‘I’m afraid I still couldn’t find other garments than the ones your mother disapproved of.’

‘Perfect,’ Marian said grimly.

Fenris smiled faintly, shaking his head. He was certain Leandra would come by, after she had been able to cope with the blow. Of course, her first reaction had been to lash out at her daughter. They looked more alike than Marian was willing to admit. He remembered plainly how she had been shouting at Anders after Carver had been guided away by the Grey Warden called Stroud.

_Hawke had thumped the wall so hard that she bruised her hand but she didn’t seem to care. She had turned to Anders._

_‘Why did you ever leave the Grey Wardens?’ she had seethed. ‘You see the mess the Darkspawn cause, you could do something about it. But no, you had to run away because you can’t handle authority, you selfish bastard!’_

_‘Er Hawke,’ Varric had tentatively said, ‘don’t you think you’re a little unreasonable? After all he saved your brother.’_

_‘Saved him?’ Hawke had screamed._ ‘Saved _him?!_ _As far as we know Carver can still die. And he won’t live long anyway with that fucking taint!’_

_Anders had looked tired and defeated but didn’t speak. Even Fenris himself had felt a little uneasy. She_ was _acting unreasonable, no matter how desperate she felt._

_‘If it hadn’t been for Blondie here, Junior would be dead right now,’ Varric had stated boldly._

_He had admired him for his courage. Marian had looked as if she was about to explode or knock the dwarf flat out but then she had deflated and hung her head._

_‘You’re right,’ she had sighed. ‘Sorry Anders, of course you’re not to blame, you did what you could. It’s just ... it seems so unfair to lose both your siblings to the Blight. Another one gone I swore to protect. Damn it.’_

_She had thumped the wall again. ‘Let’s move out of here. I can’t wait to tell Mother the wonderful news,’ she had scoffed._

_She had said little else before they had reached Kirkwall._

Fenris shook his head again to get rid of the memory.

‘And upstairs there is something to eat and the last of the Aggrigio Parvali I managed to dig out of the darkest crevices of the cellar. Would you believe there are bats living there?’

She opened her eyes. ‘Have I told you that I love you? No? Then I do it now. I love you.’

He stooped over her and planted a tender kiss upon her lips. ‘And I love you. Enjoy your bath.’

Half an hour later they sat before the roaring fire. It wasn’t necessary in this season, but a fire was always comfortable. Hawke couldn’t remember she’d ever felt so content, despite her mother’s breakdown and the terrible words she had whirled at her. And despite her feelings of guilt about her brother. Sitting here, on a blanket spread out on the floor before the hearth, leaning against a bench before that comfy fire next to her beloved elf, bathed and clean, sharing a bottle of the most exquisite wine she had ever tasted and the small titbits she liked so much with Fenris as her company, she felt more happy than she had ever before.

‘How did you manage to accomplice all this before I came here?’ she asked. ‘It didn’t take that long to listen to the accusations, leave the shouting behind and take refuge here.’

Fenris chuckled softly and since she was lying with her head on his chest she could feel the rich rough velvet sound in a pleasant way resonate through her body. She could hardly focus on his reply.

‘I can work very fast, that’s all you need to know,’ he said.

He wanted her to relax, not to know about the frantic way he had run through Lowtown to take a quick bath himself, had bought her – and his – favourite rosemary scent by the merchant who sold it (which he had discovered times before by the way), had made a fast turnaround along the Hightown market to purchase the little bites he knew she loved and hastened to his mansion to find the last bottles of the Aggrigio and prepare her bath. All because he had anticipated the confrontation with her mother would be short and harsh. He had of, course, known she would be devastated. She had already been, because she thought she had failed her brother, and he had wanted to give her some consolation.

Lazily he untangled her damp hair with tender fingers. ‘After all you were right about taking the abomination. Anders. He saved your brother. He saved you.’

She hummed something incomprehensible. He took her chin in his hand and turned her head so she had to face him. ‘What?’

She sighed. ‘I said that you were right. Although he didn’t save _me._ I’m very hard to kill. But I’m afraid to admit it out loud, because you can illuminate your markings at just mentioning his name.’

_bloody hell_

‘Are you so scared of me? Of my reaction?’

She gave him a lopsided smile. ‘No. But I don’t want a fight.’

‘You won’t get a – ahgn’

Unexpectedly she let her fingers softly but determinedly trail along his member while she gently nibbled at his lower lip.

‘I know,’ she whispered, ‘but I don’t want to talk about him. Not now. Not about any other nuicanse or problem.’

She removed his shirt and let her tongue slowly swirl around his flat nipples. She descended his taut abdomen, giving attention to each of his hard muscles while her hand slipped into his pants and loosely gripped around his scrotum. He tensed, but in the good way, and she felt him harden. She removed his leggings and smallclothes.

’Marian.’ He inhaled sharply. ‘I didn’t mean to, you have been through –‘

‘Shush love,’ she shooed. She flicked her tongue around his swollen tip which made him buck. Unhurriedly she took him into her mouth, teasingly slowly sucked him while she let her fingers play with the part of his shaft her lips couldn’t reach. She twirled her tongue all around his length, softly licking and delightedly tenderly grazing him. He closed his eyes and let the wonderful feeling come over him until he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled her into his arms and searched her mouth, kissing her deeply. His lips traced the path of her jaw and lingered at the spot behind her ear. He moaned softly when he met the scent of rosemary, mixed with arousal, and let his tongue undergo that smell, tasting her in enchantment. He turned her on her back and kneeled between her legs. He looked into her eyes when he entered her, marvelling in every inch of her tight, soaked sheath he conquered until he filled her completely. She gasped lightly and whispered his name, looking back at him with eyes full of love. He started to move but didn’t take on the usual passionate pace. Nevertheless their heights were overwhelming. Never before had their lovemaking been so tender, never before he had experienced such an intense feeling of belonging. Not before he had feared he had lost her. He wanted to hold on to her forever.

-

They woke in a tangle of limbs in front of a dying fire.

‘Coffee?’ Fenris suggested.

Hawke chortled. ‘You know the routine.’ She leaned on her elbow when he left the room. He hadn’t bothered to dress and she admired his taut behind while he walked to the stairs.

‘Next time I’ll make coffee for you,’ she called after him.

He laughed out loud. ‘I hold you to that!’

When he returned, holdong two steaming cups, he found her pouring over the map she had found among the treasure in the Deep Roads. She looked up with disconcerted eyes.

‘This scribbling ...’ she started, rubbing the spot between her brows, ‘it’s my father’s handwriting.’ She pointed at the words in the corner she hadn’t been able to read before.

Fenris carefully put down the mugs on the table. ‘Are you sure?’ He looked for his smallclothes and leggings, found them on the floor before the hearth and put them on.

‘Yes. I would recognise his script anywhere. But I can’t decipher the words. This must be the code Wynne talked about.’ She sounded agitated. ‘It may not be a treasure map, but if Father made it, or took the effort to make a note on it in his secret language, it must hold something of importance.’ She put the heels of her hand into her eyes. ‘If he had ever been able to tell me what he was on about, what he was working on. Oh shit.’

Fenris followed her index finger where it hovered over the map.

‘This is Denerim, the capital of Ferelden, with her harbour at the Waking Sea,' she pointed, 'the Free Marches close on the other side. This is Kirkwall, see?’ He saw. And his just taught reading skills gave him the ability to actually recognise the written names. ‘These are the Frostback Mountains, close to Orzammar,’ Hawke continued, ‘the great dwarven city.’

‘And Lothering,’ he said softly, ‘just above the Korcari Wilds.’

She fell silent, wrapped up in memories. He felt her tighten and immediately regretted his remark. He let his hands rest on her shoulders and started to massage them gently. ’Brings up bad thoughts?’

She laughed shortly, leaning into his hands. ‘Yes and no. You know what happened there. But despite that horrible memory, we led a good life in that village. Sometimes I still miss it.’

He leaned over to kiss the top of her head. And at the same time he noticed it. ‘That place is marked with a little cross,’ he pointed.

Hawke’s breath hitched when she followed his finger and her hackles rose. She hadn’t noticed this before, but just looking at the spot made her flinch, although she didn’t know why. The mark was put somewhere in the Frostback Mountains, not too far away from Orzammar.

‘I think Wynne and Berran should know about this,’ she whispered.

-

‘This is very interesting,’ Wynne said, looking at the map Marian showed her.

They were gathered in the Hanged Man and the Seeker seemed to be even more ill at ease than at the picnic on the Wounded Coast. He kept roaming the place with his eyes as if he was expecting an assault.

Wynne, however, acted completely at ease. She had ordered a pitcher of ale and poured four mugs. Fenris had accepted, though he preferred wine, and Berran had looked as if she tried to poison him.

‘Interesting? I thought more distressing,’ Marian answered Wynne’s remark.

The mage looked up. ‘Why do you say that, Serah Hawke?’

Marian took a sip of her ale. ‘I’m not exactly sure. But, some way or another, that specific spot gives me the creeps. Frankly, the whole map does. And my father’s handwriting too, especially because I don’t know what it means.’

‘This is indeed Malcolm’s script,’ Wynne said pensively, ‘and again in the code we still aren’t able to comprehend.’

‘I don’t understand what this map was doing in the treasure we found. How did it end up in the Deep Roads? I can hardly imagine the Darkspawn were interested in it,’ Marian said.

‘Neither do I.’ Berran finally interfered with the conversation. Apparently he had decided that the clientele of the Hanged Man wasn’t going to kill him. At least not because of the fact he was a Seeker, about which they didn’t know and couldn’t care less if they had done so. ‘But perhaps we found someone who can answer that question and some more. My men have located the runesmith your father was working with in Ferelden.’

‘At least we think he is the one,’ Wynne corrected, ‘we are not certain yet. He is a topside dwarf and has a shop in Denerim.’

‘I suppose that means a trip to Ferelden,’ Hawke said flatly.

‘We would very much appreciate your company,’ Wynne said. ‘After all it is about your father.’

Hawke looked at Fenris. ‘Will you come with us?’

He gave her the faintest of smiles. ‘I’m your bodyguard, remember; where you go, I go.’

‘How could I forget,’ she mumbled.

‘I suggest Berran and I will book passage for us all on the next ship heading for Denerim,’ Wynne said. ‘Shall we meet here again tomorrow afternoon? I hope I can tell you by then when we are going to leave.’ She finished her ale and rose. ‘I must say, I rather like this establishment.’

‘You do?’ Hawke asked, flabbergasted.

‘Indeed I do. It’s so refreshing after the dull environment of the Circle and the ceremonial gatherings in the royal palace. I bet king Alistair would love it too.’

And with that she left, with Berran in tow.

-

The moment Ferns turned the key in the lock of his front door, he stepped back and reached for his sword. ‘Someone has been here,’ he said, ‘or is still inside.’

Marian looked sceptical at first. ‘Even Isabela didn’t succeed in picking that lock,’ she said, but she drew her daggers even so. On second thought it was better to trust on Fenris’s instinct.

They crept cautiously through the hallway and up the stairs.

There was someone inside. The someone was a male blonde elf. He sat on the bench before the hearth, his legs casually stretched to the fire, crossed at the ankles. He turned to them with a broad smile the moment they entered the room.

‘I think we have to talk,’ he said with a heavy Antivan accent.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think the surprise in the next chapter will be that much of a surprise.
> 
> Thanks for reading and even more thanks for all the kudos and comments!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there he is... our other lovable elf...
> 
> I must warn you, there's an angsty scene somewhere in the second half of this chapter. Some reference to Fenris's brutal past.

Chapter 17

\- 

'Who are you?’ Hawke asked, falling into a threatening pose. 

The unknown elf rose from the bench and bowed gracefully. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zevran Arainai. I’m an assassin and former member of the Crows. I hail from the beautiful capital of Antiva. You know it, yes?’ 

‘I’ve heard of it,’ Marian said cautiously, completely taken aback. It struck her as extremely strange behaviour for an assassin to show himself so openly. She had always been under the impression that they acted by the “you-never-knew-what-hit-you” method. 

Fenris trained his sword on the elf, standing half a pace before Hawke. ‘Tell me one good reason why I should let you stay alive,’ he said menacing. 

Zevran raised his hands in a peaceful gesture but kept his radiant smile and self-confident composure. ‘Because I have information you’ll find very interesting, my friend.’ 

‘I am not your friend,’ Fenris emphasised with a nasty scowl, ‘and you’re certainly not mine. How did you get in here anyway?’ He thought with some angry regret at the money Marian had paid that dwarf to put an (in hind side not so) unbreakable lock on his door. 

‘I have mentioned I’m a former Crow, no?’ Zevran said as if that explained everything. ‘Let’s not bore ourselves with tell-tales of my education. Let it suffice to say there is no fortress, prison let alone house I cannot break into – or out off.’ He looked Hawke up and down with an appreciative glance. ‘I must admit it has been a while since an assignment led me to a woman of such ravishing beauty as yours.’ He gave her an intimate charming smile. ‘And there are a lot more relaxing and exciting ways of ... bringing the message home than looking down the length of a striking blade.’ 

Marian was not entirely sure how many sexual insinuations were hidden in this one sentence, but she got the feeling that this Zevran could make a simple offer for dinner sound like an invitation to participate in an orgy. He was even worse than Isabela, although far more subtle. And charming. So yes, much worse. She heard Fenris let out a feral growl that clarified he also got the hidden innuendos. She laid a soothing hand on his arm, searching for something pacifying to say to prevent bloodshed. And thus she said the first thing that hit her brain. ‘Fenris here is my husband,’ she stated without batting an eyelid, ‘and he is not the sharing type. You are warned.’ 

Zevran didn’t seem to be impressed. ‘That is a true pity, my friend,’ he drawled, ‘because there are so many means of sharing that are tremendously pleasurable.’ 

Fenris took a step forward. ‘For the last time, I’m not your friend and I suggest you’re going to explain why you are here, this very moment, before I change my mind and kill you as yet.’ His will to protect Marian had only increased after those gruesome moments in the Deep Roads when he’d thought he had lost her. And the way this elf ogled her did nothing to ease that. (He doggedly called it “protect” to avoid that other appalling word). 

_Husband??_ Only now the word hit home _. What the hell?_ He almost dropped his sword. 

‘Shall we sit down and talk without bared weapons?’ Marian said amiably. ‘It’s so much more peaceful that way. Would you care for a glass, er, swig of wine, Zevran? We could share a bottle. Please, Fenris, put your sword away. I’m certain Zevran is not going to attack us. Or rape me.’ 

The Antivan elf shot her a brilliant smile. ‘That, my beautiful Marian Hawke, would be the last of my intentions. And besides that, I think you should sit down anyway for what I’m about to reveal.’ 

Fenris knew when he was defeated. He put his sword in the weapon rack and went over to the cabinet to fetch one of the bottles of the rich flavorous Antivan red wine. It was pure coincidence he had retrieved those particular bottles from the cellar before the trip to the Hanged Man. But by now it almost seemed like an omen. 

When the three of them were gathered around the table, Zevran said, ‘I’m here on behalf of a Magister named Danarius. I believe you know him well.’ 

Fenris froze. ‘You are _what_?’ His voice sounded so portentous and he looked so ominous that the temperature in the room actually seemed to drop several degrees. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you act as his emissary?’ By now he highly regretted he had put his sword away. Hawke shot to attention but for the time being said nothing. For some reason she didn’t think this fair haired elf with the mischievous twinkling in his hazel eyes had in reality any personal relationship with that Tevinter monster. 

‘O no no, not at all.’ Zevran fluttered his hand in an elegant and convincing way. ‘He doesn’t even know that _I_ know he is, in fact, my client. No, I had a particularly – interesting encounter with his apprentice. Hadriana. She is not a stranger to you either, no?’

Fenris leant back and with cold eyes he examined the elf on the other side of the table. ‘I must say you behave very odd for an assassin. Do you betray all your clients like this or is it part of your tactic to ensnare your victims?’ 

Zevran flashed him one of his bright smiles. ‘I assure you, not one and a half year ago I would have acted totally different. But to be associated with the Hero of Ferelden does intend to change you.’ 

Hawke, who hitherto had stayed silent, exclaimed, ‘You were part of her entourage? You helped to end the Blight?!’ 

Zevran turned to her with a little bow of his head. ‘Indeed I was, my lovely lady, but that’s not important right now. What _is_ important, however, is that you are both in danger. Grave danger I might add.’ He reached for the bottle of wine and took a sip before he continued. ‘Not only is the Magister Danarius after his precious with lyrium tattooed escaped slave, but by now also after the intriguing daughter of one Malcolm Hawke.’ 

They both stared at him, wide-eyed. 

‘Gascard DuPuis,’ Marian said through clenched teeth. She thumped the table. ‘Oh, we should have anticipated that son of a bitch would turn to him.’ She had no proof whatsoever to confirm that bold statement, but ever since she’d learned the creep had eavesdropped on them in this very mansion, and Maker knows what had witnessed, she had thought him capable of anything. 

‘We had no reason to believe he would do that,’ Fenris contradicted somewhat hoarsely. ‘He is a spy for the Seekers, not for the Imperium.’ He had become completely rigid after hearing the message that Danarius now was chasing her as well, Hawke had noticed, but had seemed to relax somewhat. Or perhaps it was better to say he was restraining himself with great effort. 

‘As far as I know there is a phenomenon called counterespionage,’ Hawke said darkly, ‘and a bastard like him would likely act as a double agent.’ 

‘But don’t you think the Seekers would have known about that?’ Fenris said. Hawke just looked at him. ‘Hmm. Probably not,’ he had to agree. 

‘If not because of him, how else Danarius could have found out?’ Hawke said firmly. Fenris could think about one or two ways. 

Zevran raised his eyebrows in a delicate way. ‘I don’t know about this Gascard DuPuis but I will tell you what I do know.’ One of his flashing smiles followed his words and somehow took the sting out of the serious situation. ‘Not long after the Hero of Ferelden was crowned queen and married to the lovely ingenuous but brave fool of an Alistair, I left the dull court in Denerim, intending to annoy as much Crows as possible during my travels, and ended up in Rivain,’ Zevran started his tale. ‘I was hoping to meet an old, and apparently mutual, acquaintance there.’ 

‘Let me guess,’ Hawke murmured, ‘a certain pirate queen by the name of Isabela.’ 

Another flash of white teeth. ‘Indeed so. We have known each other for a long time. But instead of finding Isabela, I was approached by a slender, black-haired and blue-eyed woman, speaking with a slight lisp, who claimed to be from Orlais. The description sounds familiar, no?’ he said to Fenris, who frowned. 

‘Except for the Orlesian part.’ 

Again Zevran made one of his graceful moves with his hand. ‘You are right, my friend, but I have to give her she played her role very well, although not well enough to fool me. She tried to convince me she was an envoy of the Divine Justinia, in charge of capturing a dangerous apostate who was hiding in Kirkwall. She also told me there was a small group of Tevinter secret agents, sent by the Archon himself, to bring the aforesaid apostate and her lyrium marked elven lover to Minrathous. My task would be to assemble a handpicked party of assassins, ambush them outside Kirkwall, kill the Tevinters and bring the captives to Val Royeaux unharmed.’ 

Hawke cocked her head and said sarcastically, ‘And did she explain why the Divine would rather hire a former Crow than make use of her own Templars or Seekers? She could even have Meredith have the job done.’ 

‘Indeed she did, mia bellezza. She asserted Divine Justinia didn’t trust the Knight Commander of Kirkwall to hand over the apostate so willingly. And since, so she stated, it was a delicate matter, secrecy was paramount. I, of course, didn’t belief half a word of what she was saying. Oh, her Orlesian accent was good, but far from perfect and the way she dressed wasn’t entirely proper. Little details, but enough to raise my suspicion. So, after I accepted the assignment and the considerable amount of money that went with it, I did some nosing about. I still have my contacts in the Crows, you see. I found out very soon the so called envoy was, in fact, the apprentice of the most powerful Magister in Tevinter, looking for a runaway slave and the daughter of Malcolm Hawke. But one thing she had said was true: Archon Vitellius wants to get you, my gorgeous Marian, in his grasp and indeed sent a small group to imprison you.’ 

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a glance and Marian noticed the tension had returned in the elf’s face. It was definitely not due to “my gorgeous Marian” although, of course, she couldn’t be certain. 

‘Why would Danarius not simply send his own men?’ Hawke mused. ‘Why make things complicated and take the risk of involving strangers?’ 

‘Because he wants to beat the Archon and take over his seat as head of the Senate,' Fenris answered flatly. 'As ruler of Tevinter. Using his own men would not go unnoticed in a city where every Magister spies upon the other. Such an open challenge would cause far more complications and dangers than make use of an outsider.' His look became dark. 'I don’t doubt for a second that with you and me in his hands, Danarius thinks he will have the power to overthrow Vitellius. We’ll have to prepare for a serious assault.’ 

‘Ah yes, you should be very wary,’ Zevran chimed in, ‘but you have more time than you think.’ 

For a moment they let sink in his words and their significant implication. ‘You ... killed them?’ Hawke said in astonished understanding. 

‘They didn’t know about my existence,’ he said imperturbably. ‘I did however about theirs. Ah, surprise attacks are always so wonderful, especially when you have the assistance of a well skilled and charming roguish pirate queen. Imagine my delight when I ran into Isabela. Here, in Kirkwall of all places.’ 

It startled Hawke how thoroughly he had acted to save their hides and how airily he talked about it. The involvement of Isabela, on the other hand, didn’t surprise her at all. ‘How long have you been here?’ 

‘Since yesterday. I had to hurry to arrive before the Tevinters did.’ 

‘You have been busy,’ Hawke grinned. 

Zevran returned her a sly smile. ‘More than you think.’ 

Hawke shook her head. ‘Yes, I already assumed you and Isabela were a perfect match, in more than one way. We owe you and her a big thank you. Especially you. Why did you go through so many struggles to warn two people you didn’t even know? You could just have taken the money and run.’ 

For a moment Zevran became serious. ‘I hate the Tevinters and what they inflict on people, mostly elves. I fought one of their slaver enterprises in the Alienage in Denerim with the Hero; I saw what they did there. It was enough to never want to help them in whatever way. Only to thwart them where possible.’ 

Fenris looked intensely at him. ‘Then, perhaps, you are a friend after all,’ he muttered a little reluctantly. 

After a short silence Marian asked, ‘Did you know, by the way, that there is another member of your, how shall we call it, Blight-fight band here in Kirkwall?’ 

‘I’m aware of that and I hope to meet her again, Wynne is a friendly and fascinating lady.’ He stood. ‘And with that I take my leave.’ 

‘What are you planning to do now, Zevran?’ 

‘Is this a question out of interest, or an invitation, maybe?’ 

‘You can always dream,’ Fenris smiled. 

Zevran laughed a dazzling laugh. ‘Indeed we can. For now I’m dreaming of the same things as you: freedom, staying safe and a warm bed with appealing company. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again. I’ve decided to stay for a while.’ 

And with that he was gone.

\-   
‘Husband?’

Hawke chuckled. ‘Of all the things that have been said you pick out that one word?’ 

He got up from his chair and started to pace. ‘Marian, I’m not even sure how to call this, this, what we have together.’ 

‘Relationship?’ she proposed. ‘It’s a term that can be interpreted in many a way.’ 

He missed the sudden icy undertone in her voice. He gave her a wan smile. ‘I’m trying very hard not to be possessive and I am almost succeeding in convincing myself that I just want to protect you from harm, instead of rip out the throat of anyone who looks at you in the wrong way. And you start throwing words around like “husband” and “not the sharing type”. You’re not making it any easier.’ 

She also got up. ‘I just wanted to make very clear there would be no playing around. I wasn’t insinuating anything. But if I suffocate you, then perhaps I should leave you on your own for a while so you can figure out _what we have together_.’ She almost spat those last four words. 

There was no missing that tone and he suddenly got the nasty feeling something was very wrong. ‘What? No! That’s not what I meant!’ He stopped his roaming about so abruptly that his bangs blinded him for a moment before he wiped them aside. 

‘Then what _did_ you mean, Fenris?’ 

And now she sounded outright dangerous. It made him terribly nervous. 

‘It’s just that I’m not used to, to ...’ He took a step towards her. 

‘Being cared for? Being loved?’ she threw at him. ‘Yes, we established that quite a time ago. I didn’t expect you to adapt immediately. As a matter of fact I’m surprised you got as far as you did, in such a short time. But if you are getting cold feet, just say the word and I’m out of here.’ She made a move to spin and run off. 

Now it was his turn to get angry. ‘Will you stop jumping into conclusions, woman, and listen for once!’ he shouted. She halted and fell silent, bewildered by his heatedly uttered words. ‘I’ve seen the other side of love by now. Not only the jealousy and possessiveness, but also the fear of losing.’ He took a gulp of air. This was difficult, very difficult but he had to tell her this. ‘You scare me to death, the way I need you, the way I can’t even breathe without you, the awful way it frightened me when I thought you were gone, the way I can’t simply live without you. And to make it all worse and more complicated, now Danarius is after you too.’ 

She decided to ignore that last remark for now. All the other words were confusing enough. In one way they made her feel warm, in another it gave her the unsettling impression ice was trickling down her spine. ‘Does this mean you want to take a step back?’ she asked with a very small voice. ‘Keeping more distance?’ 

He chortled mirthlessly. ‘Believe me, I’ve tried and failed gloriously. No, that is not what I want.’ 

‘Then why did you say you can’t even call what we have?’ She felt desperate and utterly shaken by now. 

He tried to calm down. So that’s what she was upset about. Or perhaps insecure. That thought struck him: that she might be as frightened as he was, despite her big mouth. After all, she also had a twisted history. He closed the distance between them. He cupped her face and traced her eyebrow with a finger. ‘Because I really don’t know. Because I’ve never experienced this before. How would _you_ call it? What do _you_ expect?’ 

She tried a little smile. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared as well. I pledged to myself I wouldn’t fall in love and here I am, loving you like hell. And yes, afraid to lose you. And not only in a battle. But also because of some stupid thing I say to drive you away, or because of your scattered memories getting the best of you and make you flee from me as yet. Or you getting too unselfconfident and backing away. You name it.’ She tried with herculean force to back down tears. ‘But what I _do_ know is that I feel safe with you. You make me feel like I finally have found a home. In this ruin of a house _you_ are my home. I, however, never wanted to push you –‘ 

His lips brushed hers. ‘You never did. I pushed myself.’ He pulled her close to him, claiming her lips with more force. He felt deeply moved by her words, so matching his own fears. And even more moved because she told him she felt at home with him. Home, such an alien concept, even for her if he grasped her words in the way she had meant them. Not a place you lived in, but a place to feel safe. And she had stated he was her home. He could hardly absorb the significance. Didn’t dare. ‘I admire your honesty, even though sometimes you blurt out the strangest things, but please don’t change that. I will try to be honest also, or perhaps open is the better word. Just promise me one thing.’ She just hummed. ‘For the Maker’s sake, stop hurling yourself into the fray of a fight like a gone berserk drunken dwarf. Every time you do that, my heart stops beating.’ 

She laughed softly and the resonation made him shiver. ‘I don’t make that promise unless you do the same. You also have the nasty habit of twirling yourself into the heat of a battle.’ 

‘Only to protect you from your own lethal enthusiasm,’ he mumbled. 

‘I’ll keep that in mind. And now, please kiss me.’ 

‘We should talk about Danarius –‘ 

‘Later. Now, kiss me.’ 

And he did. And much more.

\- 

Somewhere during the night Fenris woke with a blood curdling scream. His heart was hammering in his chest and he was covered with sweat. Alarmed Hawke flew up. ‘Fenris!’ He drew her in a crushing embrace and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. His breath went wild and ragged. She let her fingers trace through his soft moonlike hair, more tousled than ever, and her hand gently caressed his back. 

‘It’s all right Fenris,’ she whispered, ‘I’m here, it was but a dream. I’m here, my love.’ He had had nightmares before, but never this bad, and it seemed to take ages before he calmed down somewhat. When his uncontrolled panting finally had reduced to a shuddering breath now and again, she said, ‘I’ll get you some water. Or wine, if you prefer.’ She started to get out of the bed. 

‘No! Stay, don’t go!’ He clung unto her like a vice, a panicked expression on his face. She sank back in his arms, holding him as soothingly as she could. Only now she realised he had screamed out her name, and with a jolt of fury she understood. _That monster._ The things Zevran had told them only hours before. Fenris’s immense fear to lose her. It wasn’t difficult to put those things together to comprehend this new nightly torture. ‘Danarius has to die,’ she said determinedly. 

‘I will kill him,’ he croaked. ‘He will never touch you.’ He cringed. 

Only very slowly the horrible images of his dream subsided. Danarius dragging her by magic subdued helpless naked body in his arms. Then forcing her on all fours and taking her from behind, pounding into her like a rutting animal with cold passion. All the while looking at him with a demonic grin. And he was powerless to act. Either because he was tied up in some way, or paralysed by terror. He didn’t know. And then her slender frame lying on a stone slab, bound and shackled. Her screams of agony while Danarius made deep cuts in her skin until she bled out. That was the moment he, at last, had been able to rip himself out off this nightmare. ‘I will kill him,’ Fenris repeated. He laid his hand on her chest and closed his eyes. He concentrated on her heartbeat, her warm breath on his face, her soft skin touching his, the faint scent of rosemary, her fingers tenderly stroking his body until he found his calm again. 

‘I know I promised to be more open, but I can’t talk about this,’ he whispered. 

‘You don’t have to,’ she assured him. ‘I have a lively imagination and I don’t even think I want to know. Don’t torment yourself, you’ve gone through enough.’ 

He opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘For what? It is that deformed mind, that incarnation of evil itself, that does this to you. You never asked for it, you’re not to blame.’ 

‘Let’s get out of bed, I won’t be able to sleep anymore.’ He shivered. 

‘Neither will I,’ she agreed. 

They got dressed and went down to the kitchen where Fenris made coffee. Hawke had offered to perform that task this time, but he had declined. The simple chore helped to put his mind at ease. It was still dark outside, although the eastern sky began to turn into a shady hue of bluish purple, announcing the coming dawn. Hawke had opened the backdoor to let in the cool early morning air and it didn’t take long before the first birds somewhat hesitantly started their song. They sat down at the kitchen table and sipped their coffee. 

‘I’m glad we are going to Ferelden,’ Fenris finally said. ‘We’ll be out of Tevinter’s reach for a while, both the Archon’s and Danarius’s. Perhaps we can find a method to get them off our backs permanently.’ He didn’t sound very convincing and she told him so. He snorted. ‘We could come up with something useful to put Danarius down. But I’m afraid that, short from starting a war, there is little we can do to stop the Archon.’ 

‘A war no less! You worry too much. We’ll put an end to that Archon’s idiotic ambition, you’ll see,’ Hawke said pugnaciously. ‘And who knows what we’ll discover in Ferelden. It could be something that solves all of our problems.’ 

‘I truly hope so but that seems a bit too optimistic.’

\- 

After breakfast they left the mansion to visit the Hightown market. Hawke had announced she wanted to purchase a new outfit for their trip to Denerim. Her armour, repaired several times over already, had suffered greatly in the Deep Roads and so had her daggers. To her surprise Fenris slipped his hand into hers while they crossed the streets and squares, and she revelled in the reactions of the snobby nobility. Some looked at them with outright disgust and Hawke answered those looks with open defiance. On the other hand, there were lots of women who stared at Fenris with longing glances, to turn their eyes on Marian with venomous jealousy. 

‘I enjoy this very much,’ she giggled. 

‘Really? I don’t like the way I attract all that attention.’ 

‘Oh yes, you do stick out, in a brutally handsome way. Ladies enough who want to snatch you away from my side. But give me some credit too.’ 

‘I humbly apologise I completely overlooked the influence of your beauty,’ he smiled, teasingly. 

‘I _meant_ that half of those snooty nobles take offence in the way I walk so openly with my elven lover through their territory. I love that. But thank you for the compliment.’ 

When they reached the Keep, she suddenly saw out of the corner of her eye a well-known figure descending the Viscount’s Way. She halted Fenris. ‘My mother,’ she said. The tone of her voice made clear she wasn’t very happy with this unforeseen surprise.

Leandra spotted them at the same time. She seemed to hesitate but then picked up her pace until she was at level with them. Fenris let go of Hawke’s hand. 

‘Marian,’ she greeted her daughter in a somewhat awkward way. She completely ignored Fenris. 

‘Mother,’ Marian greeted her coolly back. ‘Did you have a meeting with the Viscount? Did he respond your petition on this short notice?’ 

‘Indeed he did. Apparently the Amell name still carries some importance in this city, although I must confess that the Guard Captain has been a great help in getting an appointment.’ 

‘Aveline?’ Hawke said surprised. ‘Then she must have gone behind Seneschal Bran’s back. He will be fuming when he finds out! Have you been able to achieve something?’ 

‘As a matter of fact, I did. Viscount Dumar has signed the papers to return the estate to us.’ 

‘That’s wonderful news.’ Marian tried to sound as enthusiastic as she could manage. Both she and her mother turned to look at the estate, not twenty paces away. It looked almost as dilapidated as Fenris’s mansion. 

‘It will take, of course, a lot of work before it is re-established in the old glory and can be inhabited again,’ Leandra sighed. 

‘So it seems,’ Hawke mumbled. 

‘Marian,’ Leandra started uncertain. She cast a sidelong glance upon Fenris. He immediately understood. 

‘I will go to the market,’ he told Hawke, ‘to see if that merchant still has that pair of daggers your mind is set upon. Lady Amell,’ he nodded courteously. 

When he was out of earshot, Leandra said, ‘Are you living permanently with ... that elf now?’ 

“ _He has a name, Mother_ ,” Marian almost wanted to snap. But she changed her mind when she caught the sad tone of her mother’s voice. ‘Apparently so,’ she replied tentatively. 

‘Marian, I ...’ 

Her mother hazarded a step forward and suddenly took her hands in hers. ‘I’m so sorry I yelled at you the way I did. About _what_ I yelled. You didn’t deserve my anger. I’m certain you did everything to protect your brother. I know Carver was determined to go, no matter what, and neither you nor I were able to stop him.’ She scoffed. ‘He undoubtedly would have gone after you on his own, and who knows in what sort of trouble he would have ended up in.’ 

‘It’s all right, Mother, I understand.’ What else could she say?

‘No, I want to say this. It is not your fault and I was a cruel fool to blame you. I hope you can forgive me.’ 

Hawke gave her mother a wan smile. ‘You know, I have been shouting at Anders in more or less the same way after Carver had been taken away by those Grey Wardens. That’s why I understand. We were both overtaken with grief and the desperate feeling of being powerless. Of course I forgive you. The same way Anders forgave me.’ 

Leandra embraced her daughter with a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I may not always show it, but I’m proud of you and I do love you.’ 

‘And I love you too. But don’t forget Carver hasn’t died in the Deep Roads, Mother. Being a Grey Warden is serving a just cause. We both have witnessed at firsthand how much destruction the Darkspawn bring. He will fight against that threat. You should be proud of him as well.’ 

Leandra let go of her and turned once more to her old home. ‘You are right. It’s just so hard to accept I will never see him again.’ 

‘You don’t know that.’ 

‘I hoped so hard that one day the three of us would live in that house together. Oh well, it’s no use to keep whining, I suppose. Would you ... would you care to have dinner with me tonight? You and – Fenris? I’m afraid I’ve been awfully rude to him.’ 

Marian almost chuckled. _He’s had worse_. She swallowed those words too. ‘I would love to, Mother, and I’m sure Fenris won’t object. Besides that, I have to tell you something.’ 

Leandra’s eyes flew wide with utmost panic and Marian realised what she must be thinking. She couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘No, I’m not pregnant! But I’m afraid I’m going away for a while. Again.’ 

Leandra started to protest but Hawke cut her short. ‘Nothing that dangerous this time.’ And how that would get proved to be wrong. ‘Just a trip to Denerim. It has to do with Father, about what we talked about before I went on that expedition. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you the details tonight.’ A sudden inspiration struck her. ‘And I want you to meet someone, someone who knew Father even before you did.’ 

She was certain her mother would like Wynne, and that the Fereldan mage would be diplomatic enough to convince Leandra of the importance and safe character of their quest. And diplomatic enough to not talk about her infatuation. They said their goodbyes with the promise of the meeting that very evening. 

She joined Fenris in the market place where he was nonchalantly leaning against a column, in that elegant way that made her breath hitch. In that way that made her want to drag him back to the mansion and make mad love to him until they were both utterly spent. She sneaked up on him and whispered in his ear, ‘There should be a law against looking as devastating irresistible as you do.’ 

If he was surprised by her sudden appearance, he didn’t show it. He smiled crookedly, snaked an arm around her waist and caught her lips in a short but scorching kiss. She was overwhelmed that he showed his affections so easily in public. The public stood agape. 

‘If you are still interested, the daggers are yet available,’ he said, casually as if nothing had happened. ‘I hope your encounter with your mother went well?’ 

‘It did,’ she said breathlessly. ‘We are invited for dinner. And she apologises for the way she tried not to take notice of your existence.’ 

He chortled with that rough velvet voice, flavoured with dark molten sugar. And the images of incredible hot sex, she in the mean time did have experienced, swirled through her mind. It made her body quiver and her knees almost buckled. _You, you evil_ _charm of an elf. Don’t act as if you don’t know what kind of effect you have on me_. ‘She doesn’t know much about my past, does she.’ 

Not interested in the daggers after all, she managed to march back to the mansion, with a Fenris, who was hardly able to cover his grin, in tow. They were stared after by several incredulous looking eyes, but she couldn’t care less.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope I did Zevran credit. I found it harder to write than I thought beforehand.
> 
> I thought it suited both Hawke and her mother to make amends. Of sorts. Which doesn't mean their relationship is all roses and butterflies after that!
> 
> After this chapter we're not only definitely leaving the story of the game, but the whole of Kirkwall and the Freemarshes alltogeter.
> 
> And, of course, thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sex. Again? Er, yes, again. (And it won't be last time.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 18

-

It was a beautiful early summer’s day in Val Royeaux, the capital of Orlais. The sun was shining bright in a blue sky and just a few wisps of clouds were floating on a mild breeze. But the lovely weather wasn’t the reason why the Divine Justinia had decided on a walk in the vast gardens that lay between the Chantry and the Holy Palace. It was the only place where one could be as good as certain that no unwanted ears would overhear a confidential conversation. She was in the company of Baron Villefranche and he was the Head of the Seekers. They met occasionally, mostly when something important had occurred that Villefranche could not keep away from her. She had her own methods of finding things out and if he tried to hide information she deemed vital to know, she could take drastic measurements. Like ruining him and his family. After all, she carried more power than Empress Celine.

‘I understand you have news of great import?’ Her voice was low and warm as always. People who dealt with her for the first time often mistook it for hearty, which was a great error. She wasn’t cruel, far from that, but her position didn’t give her the opportunity of being compliant either. Sometimes she had to be ruthless.

‘I do, your Holiness.’ ‘We are at a safe distance from inquisitive ears by now, so start talking.’

‘It is about the Marquis Albert Berran, the Head of the Special Assignment Section.’

Divine Justinia made an impatient gesture with her hand. ‘I know who he is, no need to explain. What about him?’ She had stopped alongside a bed of crimson roses that had just come into bloom.

Villefranche cleared his throat delicately. Of course she knew who he was; it was a public secret she and Berran had been lovers for several years, although he was wise enough not to mention that piece of precarious knowledge. He suspected she still had a soft spot for him, but she was the Divine and the Divine would always prevail the interest of the Chantry over personal feelings. So, he decided for the direct approach. She would preferred that anyway.

‘I have every reason to believe Albert Berran is overstepping his boundaries,’ he said bluntly. ‘In such a way that it can be a danger to us all.’

She lifted her brows a millimetre. “Reason to believe ..?’

Villefranche pondered that, despite her age – she was well over fifty years by now – those intelligent, striking eyes still made her look young. And unfathomable, so dangerous. Besides that, they could turn into burning rays in an instant and frighten the guts out off a seasoned warrior.

‘I hope you are not trespassing on my precious time to tell me about mere suspicions?’

‘Of course not, ma’am. We have a witness.’

The brows were raised another millimetre. ‘And how reliable is that witness?’

‘He has everything out of first hand –‘

She interrupted him. ‘No Baron, I’m referring to the methods you used to obtain the information.’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘We had to take him into custody to interrogate him.’

She looked intensely at him with those unreadable eyes, but he thought he saw a small glimmer of irritation. Every minute now her eyes could change into those feared, soul crushing beams.

‘You are accusing the Marquis Albert Berran on the basis of torture.’

Villefranche had anticipated this and said smoothly, ‘No ma’am, the witness is being held in an apartment where he has all sorts of luxury at his disposal. And no one has laid a finger upon him. Sometimes gentleness with just the slightest hint of a threat, combined with a bigger hint of a generous reward, turns out to be the right leverage we need to learn what we want.’

(Gascard DuPuis had gone through all kinds of emotions; from bafflement when he got arrested the moment he set foot in Val Royeaux, via mortal fear when he was dragged to the Seeker’s Headquarters for reasons he didn’t understand, through a cautious rise of hope after he was ushered into an opulent apartment, to sagging relief when he found out what was expected from him. He decided he didn’t owe Berran anything and was more than willing to spill all the beans to save his own skin.)

The Divine stooped over the flowerbed to inhale the heavy sweet scent. ‘Then enlighten me. And don’t withhold anything.’

Villefranche told her every bit of information DuPuis had shared about the strange mage called Marian Hawke. ‘In case you wonder why we were so certain this DuPuis was involved that we took the liberty of arresting him,’ he added, ‘I assure you that we know from our own man in Kirkwall he had a few meetings with the Marquis over there.’

‘He is his agent, isn’t he ...’ The question hovered in the air.

‘Yes, in Minrathous. He hadn’t been in Kirkwall for over a year and that visit was only to check on the abandoned family mansion. And Berran had never before set foot in that city. Why should he. Nothing of interest ever happens there, what with Knight Commander Meredith in charge. And suddenly the two of them turn up in the City of Chains, having secret meetings together in a warehouse at the Docks, in the company of the Fereldan First Enchanter no less. Quite suspicious.’

‘My, boring Kirkwall must have become an exciting place all of the sudden,’ the Divine said dryly. She resumed her stroll and the Baron followed.

‘Our man has been having a busy time,’ he agreed. ‘Indeed, the spying abilities of the Seekers, even amongst yourselves, are legendary,’ the Divine remarked acerbically. ‘Apparently you trust no one, not even your own kind.’

‘That is because no one _can_ be trusted,’ Villefranche answered sincerely, ‘as is illustrated by what Berran has been up to.’

Divine Justinia ignored these last words but Villefranche wasn’t fooled. She would return back on them.

The path they followed split in two, to go around an ornamental marble fountain. On a pedestal in the centre stood a statue of Shartan in a warlike stance, surrounded by his most trusted warriors. At their feet lay the heads of slain demons, squirting water out of opened jaws. ‘I always liked this tableau,’ the Divine mused. ‘It’s so refreshing to see the deeds of Shartan are remembered now and again. Sometimes I get so tired of the omnipresent Andraste. As if she could have accomplished the whole rebellion on her own.’ She moved a hand through the cool water rippling in the basin. Villefranche didn’t comment. He knew she was mulling over his given information and waited for her reaction.

‘So, a mage without mana and no access to demons. That is – interesting,’ she said pensively, as expected. ‘I wonder how she manages.’

‘I take it your Holiness is aware of the dire consequences..?’

‘Yes, Baron, I’m well aware of those,’ she reacted somewhat prickly. ‘And I think Berran is as well. Instead of accusing him of overstepping his boundaries, you should think it is well possible he wants to take this intriguing girl to Val Royeaux.’

‘If that were his intent, he would have done so already. Instead he is, as we speak, on his way to Denerim with her, her lover and the Fereldan mage,’ Villefranche played his trump card. But if she was shocked, her face didn’t show it.

‘You haven’t considered the possibility that in Denerim, or somewhere else in Ferelden, lies the answer to the mystery? That he went there to solve the conundrum before he reported back?’

‘No. He may be the Head of the Special Investigation Department, I’m his superior. And he knows very well that he is not to go behind my back, especially not in a case of such extreme importance as this one.’

Divine Justinia pursed her lips. She looked into the distance and absentmindedly dried her fingers on her costly brocade robes. ‘Very well. Baron, take the measurements you deem necessary. And be quick about it.’

Villefranche took a deep bow. ‘And Baron, see to it the Marquis stays alive. I want to interrogate him myself.’ She let follow, as a warning, ‘I don’t want any casualties at all. Understood?’

He hesitated. A protest fought its way out, but just in time he thought the better of it. ‘Very well. And what about DuPuis?’

‘Send him back to Minrathous. As far as I can see he is a weasel but a useful one. It would be a waste to kill him.’

‘As your Holiness wishes,’ Villefranche murmured. With another bow he retreated and hurried back to the Seeker’s Headquarters. He had to make haste to beat the Tevinters; the critical problem would become an outright disaster if they acted first.

The Divine Justinia stared after him with an unveiled sadness in her eyes that would have startled him. With a heavy heart she went to the Chantry to light a candle. A Divine had hardly room to believe, only room to reign. But now she wished she could wholeheartedly believe Albert Berran would act as the straightforward and trusty man she knew he was. And that the discovery he had made, would not turn against him and the rest of the world, as Villefranche was convinced of.

-

Hawke started to regret she had allowed Isabela to come with them at the very moment they set sail. She was certain she would have enjoyed the sea trip much more if it hadn’t been for her. She had thought she would go to Denerim with only Fenris, Wynne and the Seeker, but the pirate queen had been adamant to accompany them and she could be very persuasive.

‘Sweetness,’ she had said, ’I’m bored to shreds here in this dull city and am dying to visit the Pearl again. I like the Rose, of course, but the Pearl has its own – characteristic splendours. Besides that, you can’t go to sea and leave me behind. The sea! Think about it! The crying of the gulls in your ears, the prickling sensation of the salt spray on your skin, the sound of the wind in the sails and the creaking of the rigging...’

‘Alright, alright, I get the message! You can come!’ Hawke had given in to her plea, which obviously meant that Zevran would be present also. Because, since their reunion, Isabela and the Antivan elf had been inseparable. Marian had made a bet with Varric about how long this infatuation, that they both observed with amused interest, would last. And speaking of the dwarf, he too was travelling with them; not only to keep an eye on his wager but mostly to document all the adventures his heroine would encounter. Hawke highly doubted their stay in Denerim would involve epic battles, narrow escapes and daring rescues, but Varric had insisted that there were Hawke went, trouble would follow. She hadn’t been able to deny that, it had been proven to be the truth more times than she cared to count.

It had taken almost a week to make preparations and book passage on a ship bound for Denerim but finally they were ready to go. Of course Isabela, with Zevran in tow, came running up the gangplank not a moment too early and soon after that the problems began. Isabela was used to be in command aboard a ship and automatically started to boss the crew around. It got her in no time into a terrible row with the actual captain of the vessel. He even accused her of trying to start a mutiny and threatened to throw her overboard. Only after a lot of shouting and after Hawke had confronted Isabela with how she would have felt if someone had try to interfere with her authority, the pirate subsided and swallowed her pride. She replaced it with sulking and bickering with everyone over the smallest things. Even Hawke’s threat to tie her up until she’d calm down, had not the desirable effect. Instead of answering with the usual sexual teemed quip, Isabela had reacted with a dark scowl. And Varric’s remark she had taken over the role of Fenris of being the brooding one, had turned that scowl into a murderous glare.

‘I need a ship of my own,’ she wailed ever so often. ‘How can I be a pirate captain without a ship of my own?!’

Hawke was grateful for Zevran’s presence; he, at leas,t had some positive influence on the pirate queen. With him around Isabela could blow off some of her frustration beneath deck. And between those enterprises, he managed to soothe her by whispering things into her ear Hawke couldn’t hear and didn’t want to hear. Thankfully, and most probably due to the incomprehensible words spoken in that sugary Antivan accent, during the journey the complaining lessened, although a generous amount of stress lingered. The rest of them amused themselves with playing wicked grace and diamondback, drinking rum and listening to Varric’s colourful stories. Even the Seeker seemed to relax a little, although no one could catch him on showing a real smile.

One night Hawke stood at the rail, flanked by Fenris who had wrapped his arm around her waist. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it,’ he said, referring to the white moonlight reflecting in the rolling waves, scattering and recoiling in a trail that seemed to follow the track of the ship.

‘Yes,’ Hawke agreed, ‘just like the colour of your hair.’ She leaned against his shoulder. One hand went up to ruffle through his bangs to emphasise her tender spoken words but he wasn’t fooled. He could feel she wasn’t completely at ease.

‘What’s bothering you?’

She looked surprised. ‘How can you tell something is bothering me?’

Fenris chuckled softly. ‘I know you, Marian. I see when your smile is genuine or not, if there are traces of worry in your face, even though you try to hide it. I can feel it in the tension of your body. I feel clearly this very moment that something _is_ bothering you. So, are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?’

Hawke sighed. No use to deny; he _did_ know her well. ‘It doesn’t sit well with me I left Mother on her own. Maker knows what will happen. Tevinters could show up, followed by Seekers or the other way around.’

Fenris had anticipated this. After all, the loss of her father and sister still weighted heavy on her conscious. And losing her brother to the Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads didn’t help to ease her mind either. But he was sure his bird of prey had some more surprises upon her sleeve. He would await them while he smoothed down this particularly anxiety. ‘Aveline will keep an eye upon her. And your mother is not alone. She has servants now. A stout dwarf who has travelled with the Hero of Ferelden, of all people, and his adopted son who can do very interesting things with runes. A pity he and your father never got the chance to meet. And Alrond stayed with her. She might as well have locked herself inside a fortress with an army to protect her.’

Despite her worries Marian had to laugh. The two dwarves had been part of the expedition and after they had saved Sandal – although Hawke was convinced the strange young dwarf had been fully capable of saving himself – Bodahn had got it into his head he owed her a debt. He had insisted to pay off that debt to become her manservant. Or rather Leandra’s manservant, since she couldn’t imagine the two dwarves circling around Fenris and her in the elf’s mansion. Strictly speaking she owned the Amell estate and official lived there. So she had directed them to her mother who was very pleased with them.

She became serious again.

‘It’s not just my mother. I can’t stop thinking about Sandal’s behaviour when he is around me. He all but jumps up and down, exclaiming “Enchantment!” every time I show my face. Although I like the little dwarf, it’s making me feeling uncomfortable, like he knows something I only suspect. Being the fraud I told you I’m afraid I am.’

Fenris squeezed her side which almost made her jolt. She was ticklish, but Maker forbade he found out. ‘He does that with everybody who enters the house. It’s practically the only word he knows. Don’t read any importance in it.’

‘He knows the words “pie” and “cinnamon buns” very well too.’

‘So he has a healthy appetite, besides a great knowledge of runes and what to do with them. Please, love, don’t tire yourself with worries that are unnecessary.’

‘But what if I turn out to be a real mage.’ She looked away, swallowing down her anxiety with great effort.

‘You _are_ a real mage.’

‘A harmless one.’

‘I’m quite certain a lot of dead thugs think differently.’

She slapped him lightly on his shoulder. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it, you, you _elf!’_

‘So you finally found out. I wonder what gave me away.’ S

he slapped him once more. ‘Stop that! I don’t think you are taking me seriously.’

‘On the contrary. I have the nasty feeling you are still afraid I will leave you when you turn out to be that so called fraud. I thought I made it clear that won’t be the case.’

‘If I say “I am”, will you scold me?’

‘Definitely.’

Hawke sighed. ‘It’s not only that. I’ve never learned to deal with demons. I don’t know what I will do if they start to harass me –‘

‘That’s enough, Hawke,’ Fenris cut her off. ‘You’re a strong woman and, besides that, too stubborn to fall for a demon’s promise. You would only yell ferociously at them and chase them back into the Void where they, without any doubt ,would crouch into a corner to avoid your wrath. Probably with their claws over their ears and their eyes firmly shut.’

‘Don’t call me Hawke.’

‘I will call you Hawke every time you annoy me with your idiotic fears and I’ll continue doing so until you’re convinced of your strength.’

‘You really have great confidence in me.’ But despite her uncertainties she had to smile.

He brushed the top of her head with his lips. ‘I do and not without reason. You withstood _me.’_

Marian giggled and he squeezed her side again. This time she couldn’t help letting out a yelp.

He laughed. ‘This is good to know.’ Before she could protest, he silenced her with a warm kiss.

They turned their interest back to the white, shattered trail of the moon in the water.

‘My hair ...?’ Only now her comment got through to him.

‘Yes. Did no one tell you that your hair is like the mid-night moon? It’s really wonderful, if not irresistible.’ And again she pulled her fingers through his soft locks to emphasize her observation.

‘I’m not aware, no. But do continue your ministrations,’ he chortled. He realized that one of the reasons he loved her so much was because of these unexpected, astonishing and seemingly so easily uttered remarks that never ceased to knock him off his feet. He wanted so much to return that feeling, He fastened his grip.

They were joined by Wynne and somewhat shyly they let go of each other.

‘I never got the chance to ask, Serah Hawke, but have you ever been to Denerim before?’

‘Just once,’ Marian said, ‘but I was very young back then. I don’t remember much of it.’

‘That’s perhaps for the better,’ Wynne said. ‘I’m afraid you wouldn’t recognise the capital, not after what the Blight has done to her. Most of the city was turned into a fierce battleground; almost half of the buildings burned down or collapsed. They are still rebuilding. But, as far as I know, the tavern the Gnawed Noble has been restored. It has always been a respectable place. That’s where we’ll stay, unless, of course, you want to go to the Pearl, just like Isabela and Zevran,’ she added with a little twinkle in her eyes.

‘No, thank you,’ Hawke grinned, ‘I’m not that eager to find out what those characteristic splendours are. But aren’t you going to stay in the Royal Palace?’

‘No. Remember this mission is a very delicate one; the less people know about it, the better. Berran was already upset that you told your friends about it.’ She raised a hand. ‘Yes, I believe they are trustworthy, but even I can only hope they will still be after a few drinks. And I don’t want to involve the King and Queen, neither have I the intent to lie to them about my presence in Denerim. So I’m staying at the Gnawed Noble as well.’ She studied Hawke for a couple of moments. ‘You’re not disappointed you won’t meet King Alistair and his Queen the Hero?’

Hawke shook her head. ‘To be honest, the thought hasn’t even cross my mind. Oh, I won’t deny that a meeting with the Hero sounds appealing, but I can do without royalty. I have enough on my mind at this moment.’

Wynne smiled. ‘Take it from me that nor Alistair, neither Elissa are acting like your average royalty. As a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure which of those two loathes the court rules more. But who knows, perhaps there will be an opportunity to meet them when all this is over and solved.’

-

The next afternoon they disembarked in Denerim’s harbour. To Hawke’s great relief Isabela’s mood changed immediately. She and Zevran took off for the Pearl with the promise to visit them the following day. Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Berran went along with Wynne who led the way through the streets to the Market District.

The city was indeed still recovering from the damage the Blight had caused and seemed to exist mostly out of scaffolds. Piles of bricks were lying around, together with stacks of wood.

‘I’ve always been told Ferelden smells like wet dogs, but it turns out it smells like fresh cut wood, cement, wattle and clay,’ Varric commented.

‘Did you really think a whole country smelled like wet dogs?’ Hawke laughed. ‘Like there are more war hounds than people around? I thought you were less gullible than that.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing but prejudice, something the people of Kirkwall invented when the refugees turned up.’

‘I know that, my dear heroine. I’m only not sure if the smell of dogs, or the lack thereof, will fit better into my story.’

They spent a quiet evening in the Gnawed Noble that was everything Wynne had promised. Edwina, the proprietress, had done all it took to restore the tavern into its former glory. Which involved clean bedrooms, and a nice dining room where they could consume the food that was surprisingly good. Hawke and Fenris excused themselves early, feeling the attraction of a room for themselves alone, after all the time they had to stay on a cramped ship. Not moments after they entered their private space, he almost attacked her and pinned her down on the bed.

‘You’re mine now,’ he growled.

And made it all come rue.

-

When she woke up, hours later, she still felt his frame pressed against hers and his arm wrapped around her waist. She let out a sigh of deep contentment.

‘Fenris?’ she whispered.

‘Hmm?’ he murmured, slowly rising from his sleep.

‘Am I dreaming?’

He opened his eyes. ‘No,’ he chuckled, ‘or if you are, I am as well.’ He kissed her bare shoulder and moved his hand upwards to cup her right breast, softly pinching her nipple.

‘Ah yes,’ Hawke groaned and instantly he felt himself harden against her buttocks. Just the sound of her voice could do that. She pushed her behind against his shaft.

‘I want you,’ she moaned. He didn’t need more encouragement and slid into her already drenched centre, while his fingers wandered from her nipple to her swollen nub to rub her. She shifted slightly to give him better access and he pounded harder and faster in her until he felt her peak come around his member and he emptied himself inside her. They both shivered in the aftermath.

‘What a wonderful way to start the day,’ she chortled. ‘Rhyme not intended.’

He turned her in his arms and kissed her lips. ‘Good morning,’ he smiled.

‘And a good morning it is, ’she agreed, smiling back.

He got out of bed and started to dress himself.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked alarmed, working herself up on an elbow.

He grinned reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m getting you coffee in bed. Strong and black, if I’m not mistaken.’

Not moments later he returned, two steaming mugs in his hands. Surprised he looked at her. She had draped herself over the bed, naked, with her head resting in her hand, one leg alluring crossed over the other, her disarrayed long honey coloured hair cascading over her back, a tempting look in her sapphire eyes, her firm breasts bare, challenging him. He got rid of the mugs, flaying them on the side table, the hot liquid sloshing all over the surface. He didn’t pay attention to the dark brown deluge, but just jumped upon her, pinning her hands above her head, kissing her as if his life depended upon it. She flipped him, panting his name, softly nibbling his lower lip.

‘I know by now you ticklish,’ he grinned, pressing his fingers into her side.

‘And you will pay for that,’ she promised, biting hard and almost drawing blood. He groaned. She pulled the shirt and smallclothes from his frame and took his rapidly hardening length in her hand. She revelled in the way he responded, in how wonderful he felt.

‘I don’t know if you can call it ticklish but I bet you are responsive,’ she said in that low rough voice that made him completely insane. She started to move her hand and he almost choked. ‘Where is your witty response now,’ she chortled and bowed down to capture his response, if there was any, in her mouth. He kissed her with a ferocity that almost deprived her of her sanity. She spread her thighs over his, guiding his cock into her entrance. He had closed his eyes, letting her take the lead, entrusting himself into her hands. Those very hands pulled him up, clasping his shoulders. Her mouth searched his, their tongues entangled.

‘I love you,’ she breathed.

‘And I love you,’ he panted in response while his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, and moved her body on the rhythm of their love-making. He felt her sheath tighten and moved one hand to rub her clit while his mouth wandered to a nipple to bite and lick the hardened peak. She screamed his name when she came, not heeding any attention to anyone who could hear her through those thin walls. And neither did he when he followed her in his mind-numbing orgasm. He fell back on the mattress, taking her with him.

‘Oh Maker, Marian,’ he managed.

She moaned something incomprehensible, ending with a few words that sounded like, ‘Glad to be off that blasted ship.’

He chortled. ‘I do agree.’

They got interrupted by an impatient Varric who was knocking on the door.

‘I know how you look naked, don’t make me come in. We are waiting for you. Hurry up!’

‘Shall we answer him? Or just kill him?’ Fenris mused while he kissed her throat and tangled his fingers in her wonderful hair that still faintly held that rosemary scent.

‘Let’s just ignore him and make love again,’ she murmured.

‘The best option,’ he smirked. He turned their bodies and rested his arms at both sides of her. His eyes were dark with want, as were hers. He took her mouth and his tongue swirled around hers while his shaft came to life again and pushed against her core.

Varric rammed against the door, rattling the wood. ‘I’m getting impatient, damn you. I told you we are waiting!’

‘Go away, dwarf!’ they cried in unison and at the same moment Fenris entered her. He pushed into her in one hard motion. She shouted out with delight.

Varric gave up. After all, he couldn’t blame them. And then again, an hour more spent together wouldn’t harm their quest.

They turned up times later, smiling broadly, looking happy. That was worth something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they have arrived in Denerim ... where a lot of surprises will await them.
> 
> I'd like to point out that "my" Divine Justinia is nothing like the one in DAI. I wrote this story before playing that game, so I made up her appearance and personality.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

-

Wynne hid a smile when Hawke and Fenris finally turned up at the breakfast table, both of them radiating happiness, though the elf tried to conceal it by looking as stoic as possible – sadly without result. The Seeker scowled at them but said nothing, he just kept wearing his dark cloud of chagrin. Hawke ignored him for the time being. He and Wynne sat next to each other on a wooden bench and Varric had taken a seat opposite them. The table in between carried the remains of the breakfast, served an hour before. The bartender hastened to bring a can of coffee and some fresh bread. The room was quiet since the few other guests had already finished their morning meal and had left to tend to whatever business they were in Denerim for.

‘Well,’ Varric smirked, ‘look who have decided to join the world of the living at last. I take it you had a ... pleasant night?’

‘And morning,’ Hawke agreed, beaming. ‘No thanks for the interruption.’

Fenris had the decency to, at least, make an attempt at looking embarrassed. After a murmured “good morning” he sat down with hooded eyes and reached for a bread roll.

‘Don’t bother to fool us with that face, elf,’ Varric said teasingly. ‘We can all look through that so called humble expression of yours and see the pride and joy behind it. And don’t try to brood either, it seems you’re losing your touch.’ Content with that statement he took a long gulp from his morning ale.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Hawke grinned happily, while helping herself to a mug of fresh coffee, ‘I can guarantee you that his touch – ‘

Varric spluttered his ale over the table.

‘Serah Hawke,’ Berran raised his voice before Fenris could silence her. ‘I take it you understand we’re in quite a hurry. So, please finish your breakfast and we can be on our way.’

Wynne stifled a laugh. She remembered the clumsy start of the love-affair between the two persons who were now the King and Queen of Ferelden, and how she had criticised that affair in the beginning. And how she had been proved to be in the wrong. When her worries had died away and she had allowed herself to admit there was no question about their sincere feelings for each other, she had felt the love that was exchanged between them. And now she could feel it again with Malcolm’s daughter and the strange tattooed Tevinter elf. She looked at them with warm affection.

‘Maybe you should try the Pearl’s splendours,’ Hawke mumbled under her breath but loud enough for Berran to hear. ‘It would definitely improve your mood.’

He shot her a murderous glance but didn’t reply.

‘We found out that the runesmith, the one who assumedly has worked with Malcolm Hawke, goes by the name of Brok Igulson,’ Wynne said, ignoring the pin-pricks. ‘He runs a shop in a street not far from the central square in the Market District. It’s not a ten minutes walk.’

‘Does he know we’re about to honour him with a visit?’ Hawke asked somewhat sarcastically.

‘I have always found that the element of surprise helps a great deal with gathering information,’ the Seeker growled.

‘Really? Who’d have thought you could be so cunningly subtle? Or is “surprise” in this case just a euphemism for bursting into a place with overwhelming power and intimidation and scare the shit out of everyone present?’

‘That’s enough Serah Hawke,’ said Wynne firmly. ‘Instead of bickering, we’d better focus on the task at hand. No, we don’t have an appointment with the dwarf but I assume we don’t have to. He runs a shop, after all; he is used to customers. I suppose people walk in and out at all hours. We just want to ask him some questions in a friendly way. I can only hope that the presence of the daughter of Malcolm Hawke and the authority of the First Enchanter of Ferelden will have a positive effect on his memory.’

Hawke cocked her head and looked pensively at Wynne. ‘Speaking of memory, I know it is a long time ago, but I have to wonder why you didn’t remember the runesmith’s name.’

Wynne smiled at her but the smile didn’t entirely reach her eyes. ‘It is indeed a long time ago but that is not the only reason. In those days the runesmith lived in the village of Lake Calenhad Docks on the shores of the lake, not far from the Tower. First Enchanter Irvin had given your father permission to visit him frequently, so that the dwarf didn’t have to carry all of his equipment to the Tower every time he needed to use it. I told you before your father worked alone and didn’t share much of his findings, mostly because it was too complicated for us to comprehend. No one ever asked him about the runesmith’s name, he on his turn never mentioned it.’ She let out a little sigh. ‘Of course, now I wish we had paid more attention.’

‘Because you neither trust him, nor what he has done,’ Hawke said flatly. ‘Even though you claim you give him the benefit of the doubt.’

‘I still do, Serah Hawke. I only regret I know so little about what he was doing. If I had paid more attention, we presumably wouldn’t need Brok Igulson at all.’

Berran at his turn squinted spitefully at her. ‘Must I again tell you about his suspicious behaviour?’

Hawke bristled. ‘The fact that you don’t understand what he was trying to do, doesn’t make it suspicious,’ she sneered. ‘But I assume you would even accuse the Divine of consorting with demons if she looked at you the wrong way.’

In the strained silence that followed Varric’s cheerful baritone chimed like a bronze bell.

‘Are you a betting lady, madam?’ he asked Wynne. ‘Apart from a little stake at cards?’

‘If I say yes, what would be the consequences?’ she informed cautiously.

‘I propose a wager about which of those two will strangle the other one first.’ Varric gave her a toothy grin.

Wynne’s hearty laughter broke the tension. ‘I’ll put my money on Berran,’ she said, ‘since he is not used to be treated like this and thus is likely the first to snap.’

Varric's grin broadened. 'I'll take your bet. Fifty silvers. Care to join in, elf?'

Fenris looked sidelong at Marin. 'I think I pass,' he said.

'Oh, just go on,' Hawke said airily, 'I don't mind. But don't expect me to let him win,' she added with a devious smirk.

Berran stood so abruptly that he bumped into the table and actually shifted the furniture almost half a meter. Fenris acted just in time to prevent his and Marian’s stomachs got squashed and, in the case of Varric, some ribs were broken. Another generous splash of ale sloshed over the wooden surface, followed by some strong, colourful language uttered in the dwarven tongue. As far Hawke could remember, Varric only swore in dwarven when alcohol got spilled.

‘I’ll wait outside until you are done joking,’ the Seeker snarled. With a few long strides he reached the door which he slammed closed behind him.

Wynne took a deep breath. ‘You know, Serah Hawke, you shouldn’t adopt such a hostile attitude towards him. After all, he is trying to help you.’

_‘Help_ me?’ Marian angrily exclaimed. ‘He only wants to nail my father! He’d love to prove he was some kind of abomination, or worse, to feed his prejudice! The only reason he wants to ask for information, no, interrogate that dwarf or, more likely to lay him on the Seekers’ notorious rack, is to see his twisted opinion justified! And in the meantime he wants to accuse me also of dabbling in some forbidden – you name it. Black art. Blood magic. Whatever. Help me!’ she scoffed. _Yes, make me laugh, you mage_!

‘Er, Hawke, haven’t I warned you against the danger of tea and coffee in the morning? How many times must I tell you it’s not good for you? Here, take a sip of my ale, it will clear your mind. Or you can lick it off the table, if you wish. There floats enough of the liquid to launch a ship. Remember your elf’s behaviour when we just met him? He was at least as broody as our Seeker is right now. I won’t deny the man has issues but I don’t think they are aimed at you. More at the world in general. Just like the elf back then.’

Fenris opened his mouth to utter a protest but thought the better of it.

‘He gets on my nerves,’ Hawke muttered.

‘I rather think this whole matter is getting on your nerves,’ Fenris said, ‘given the way you keep mulling over it.’

She groaned. ‘Alright, I plead guilty.’

She got up determinedly. ‘So let’s go to that runesmith and get it over with.’

-

Not a moment after they had left the tavern, the bartender slipped away and ran to the royal palace. He went to the cavernous kitchen and addressed a woman who was busy with kneading dough to make bread for lunch. After the exchange of a few sentences he hurried back to the Gnawed Noble before anyone had noticed his absence. His little exercise had made him richer by three gold coins. The woman left her dough, to go to the royal pigeon-loft. After she had assured she was the only person present, she wrote a short message on the paper she took from the stack that was always available in the small office adjusting the room where the birds stayed, picked a suitable pigeon, bound the rolled up little paper on its leg and sent it on its way.

Within a few hours a certain Magister would become very angry but that was not her concern. His wrath wouldn’t reach her.

-

They stepped out of the Gnawed Noble into the drizzling rain.

Berran stood waiting, his face a brewing thunderstorm. He said nothing, he just turned and started walking.

‘I do hope this isn’t the only kind of weather Ferelden has to offer,’ Varric complained while skirting a puddle, ‘because no one can tell me it is good for Bianca’s health. She might catch a cold.’

Hawke had to laugh at that. ‘Oh, stop whining dwarf, the way you pamper her, she will get spoiled. She’ll survive a little cold, don’t worry. And she could still cough up bolts. Besides that, nothing like a good Fereldan drizzle to let your chest hair flourish.’

‘And have even more women all over me?’ Varric groused. ‘You know I already have to beat them off with a stick. No need to make it worse.’ ‘

Well, you could start with buttoning up your tunic. Really, Varric, I swear that leaving it open to invite women to gawk at your chest, is the same behaviour as Isabela showing her cleavage to everyone who wants to feast their eyes upon it.’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Varric managed to sound defiant and innocent at the same time. ‘

Nothing. Just don’t complain about it. I know you love the attention.’ ‘

You are too smart for your own good,’ Varric snorted.

‘Hmm,’ Fenris mused, ‘you have a valid point.’

Hawke reacted with mock hurt. ‘What? No defending me, my knight in shining lyrium? Oh, my poor heart; hear it break!’

In the middle of a theatrical gesture she tripped over a basket containing Orlesian scents, sitting on the edge of the market. Thanks to his lightning fast reaction Fenris caught her before she hit the muddy ground. For some long moments she hung powerlessly in his arms. His eyes were twinkling, the silver a radiant sliver in the springtime green. She almost lost it.

‘Knight in shining _lyrium_?’ He shot her a crooked smile. ‘Remember you are ticklish, Marian Hawke, and at this moment completely at my mercy.’

‘You wicked elf,’ she murmured. ‘And here I was, thinking it sounded so much more romantic than “bodyguard”.’

Fenris chortled and put her back onto her feet. ‘It does,’ he agreed and planted a quick but heated kiss on her lips.

‘Serah Hawke, do I have to remind you again we have pressing matters to deal with?’ Berran called over his shoulder.

‘My, are we grumpy this morning,’ Marian grumbled.

‘One has to wonder why,’ Varric said straight-faced.

‘Shut up dwarf.’

When they reached the runesmith’s shop, Wynne stopped the Seeker by putting her hand lightly on his wrist.

‘Perhaps it’s better that I do the talking,’ she said with a cordial smile that tolerated no peremptory. ‘No use to intimidate him, I deem.’

Without waiting for an answer she stepped through the door. Inside it was stifling hot and it soon became clear that this was not only a rune smithy but also a forge. At the back of the room a furnace was blazing, a young dwarf was pumping the bellows. An elder dwarf with black braided hair and a bushy black beard was hammering on an anvil. A second look taught that he was busy with a hammer and chisel to tap an intricate pattern of delicate lines into a steel breastplate. He looked up at their entrance.

‘What can I do for you?’ he said jovially. ‘If you are here for a new armour or some heavy weaponry, you’ve come to the right place.’ He let his eyes linger on the elf, the dwarf and the human, obviously the appropriate candidates for the recommended goods. ‘Or perhaps you want some rune crafting done ..?’ he turned to Hawke and Wynne.

‘Stay here,’ Wynne ordered the three males while she took Hawke by the elbow and led her to the anvil.

‘As a matter of fact, Ser dwarf, we are here to ask you a few questions.’

The dwarf’s face closed faster than a bookies at the rumour of a visit of the IRS. ‘About what?’

His voice had turned gruffly, with a considerable touch of suspicion.

Wynne produced her most captivating smile. ‘Let me allow to introduce us. I am Wynne, the First Enchanter of the Tower of Magi in Ferelden, and this young lady here is Marian Hawke, the daughter of Malcolm Hawke. It is him we seek information about.’ But if she had thought the dwarf would be cooperative because she dropped a few names and titles, she was wrong.

‘Maybe I believe you are the First Enchanter, but who says you,’ Brok Igulson pointed his chisel at Marian, ‘are really Malcolm Hawke’s daughter, missy? Anyone could claim that.’

That, of course, was true. She couldn’t prove anything. If there had been any official papers to start with, they were lost in the Blight.

‘Er, the striking resemblance?’ she attempted charmingly but the dwarf didn’t buy it. He just looked at her with eyes as black and blazing as the coals in his furnace.

‘I knew Malcolm Hawke personally from his time in the Circle,’ Wynne tried anew with a honeyed voice. ‘And I have it on good authority that you are the runesmith he worked with in those days.’

‘And what authority might that be?’ Now the dwarf sounded outright hostile.

Wynne hesitated. Just as Marian, she figured it was probably not a good idea to mention the Seekers’ meddling. Hawke decided to take over. ‘

Ser dwarf, I just want information about my father,’ she said meekly. ‘You would do me a great favour; it’s very important to me.’

‘If it’s that important, go and ask it himself.’

‘I would, if that were possible. But he died a few years ago.’

That seemed to strike a nerve. Behind all his facial hair Brok Igulson suddenly looked shocked. ‘Died? From what?’

‘An accident,’ Hawke said curtly. She was surprised to find it didn’t hurt as much as it used to do. To pour out her heart to Fenris definitely had helped. Not to mention his understanding reaction, to put it mildly, had contributed greatly with her acceptance of what had happened.

The dwarf was silent for a couple of moments. He put down his hammer and chisel and scratched his bushy beard. ‘Look, missy, even if that were true and even if you are really Hawke’s daughter, I could make you none the wiser.’

‘But you knew him?’ Hawke persevered.

Another pause.

Then the dwarf apparently reached a decision. ‘Ay, I knew him. And I worked for him back in the day. But that’s all I have to say.’

‘You don’t even know what it is I want to ask!’ Hawke became desperate.

She had dreaded this encounter, dreaded the answers she might have to face. But now the runesmith wasn’t willing to give any explanations at all, she got frustrated. She had been prepared for the worst, not for an obstructive dwarf. It was quite a cold anti-climax.

‘That isn’t hard to guess, is it,’ the obstructive dwarf said in the meantime. ‘It’s undoubtedly about Hawke’s amazing knowledge of runes and how to create them. I’m not willing to share that with someone who claims to be his daughter, resemblance or not.’

At the door Berran cleared his throat.

Wynne turned faster than a viper and shot him a venomous look.

He backed away and collided with the wooden post. Fenris bit his lip to suppress a chuckle. Varric, on the other hand, sniggered, ‘Women, they always know how to give you the evil eye when you’re not prepared for it, don’t they.’

The Seeker grumbled something incomprehensible. Even without looking at him, Fenris knew Berran had gone red. He could almost feel the heat the man emitted.

‘I’m not asking you to reveal that kind of secrets, I wouldn’t understand them anyway. But you must know of his code language ..?’ Hawke pleaded.

‘What code language?’ Brok Igulson said just a heartbeat too fast. He must have seen that little mistake himself in the reflexion of Marian’s sceptic look, because he added immediately and again too fast, ‘I don’t know anything about any code language.’ Which made it even more implausible.

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she replied sardonically. ‘Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.’

The dwarf managed to recover his bearing and put up a straight, slightly annoyed face. ‘Listen, missy, I’m an occupied businessman and if you’re not here to buy my goods or place an order, I must strongly ask you to leave. Now.’ He picked up his tools and for a moment it wasn’t exactly clear if he intended to continue his work, or to use the utensils as weapons.

Hawke opened her mouth to object but Wynne cut her short. ‘I think that’s for the best,’ she said.

‘Thank you for your time, Serah.’ She ushered a greatly unwilling Marian Hawke outside into the still moist air of Denerim.

‘I didn’t even have the chance to show him the map!’ Hawke protested.

‘As if that would have helped,’ Wynne responded. ‘He was more apt to rip it out of your hands and throw into his furnace than to give away any details.’

‘You should have let me handle him,’ Berran groused on his turn when they stood outside on the wooden boardwalk.

‘To what advantage?’ Wynne reacted irritably. ‘You would sooner have felt his tools embedded in your scull than heard an useful answer. Yes, I’m aware he knows a lot more than he wants to admit but he simply doesn’t trust us. Frankly, I can’t blame him.’

Hawke let out a deep sigh. ‘And now?’

Wynne smiled. ‘Let him digest our visit. Within a day or two we will go back. Just the two of us, Serah Hawke. By then he has had time to think it all over. I bet he will be much more informative.’

‘Fifty silvers,’ Varric said automatically.

Wynne laughed. ‘I accept.’

-

The young dwarf looked up from the bellows.

‘You do know that was the First Enchanter, master Igulson?’ he said timidly. He didn’t know whether to be in awe because of his employer’s recalcitrant behaviour, or in panic about any possible repercussions. ‘

I don’t care if she was Andraste herself,’ the runesmith rumbled tetchily. ‘No one enters my shop and starts questioning about Malcolm Hawke. By the Stone, the impudence of those people! Did they really think I’m so untrustworthy I’d spill the beans because some missy pretends to be his daughter?! Ha! That will be the day.’

He gave a firm bang on the chisel and almost ruined the breastplate. ‘That will be the day indeed!’

-

Back in Minrathous, Danarius tried extremely hard not to break anything by throwing it at the walls or smashing it to pieces on the marble floor. He knew from experience he would regret the loss of his costly sculptures, vases and china the next day. It never compensated for the short feeling of satisfaction that the sound of breaking porcelain and glass gave in his moments of fury.

‘I thought you said the assassin was trustworthy!’ he yelled at Hadriana.

His apprentice made herself as small as possible. And she carefully didn’t point out that the very assassin was handpicked by the Magister himself. ‘I had no reason to believe he would betray you,’ she almost whispered. ‘He accepted the job without an objection. And he totally fell for my story of wanting to capture an apostate on behalf of the Divine Justinia,’ she added with a sudden upturn of bravery. Zevran hadn’t been her choice, had he. She would have gone for a real Crow, not one who had shown his dishonest nature by leaving the famous assassin’s order to follow the Hero of Ferelden. But her bravery didn’t go as far as to say that out loud.

‘That is what assassins do, besides the actual assassination,’ Danarius fumed in the meantime. ‘They never ask for the reason! They just accept the job!’ He started to pace his study. ‘And here our man darts to Kirkwall and warns our two targets! He even goes as far as to eliminate the Archon’s men.’ For a brief moment that lightened up his dark mood. He hadn’t been able to put his hands on his runaway slave and the daughter of Malcolm Hawke – yet – but neither had Vitellius. Rumours wandered, or rather sprinted, through Minrathous and he was certain this time the rumours were true. He didn’t know where they came from; one never knew and it didn’t matter anyhow. The important thing was that he was well-informed on the fact that one of the rare elves the Crows ever had employed, the one with the blond hair and the weird facial tattoo, the one Hadriana had approached on his behalf, had been seen in the company of his Fenris and Marian Hawke. In a fairly sociable way, that was. And also that he had killed the Archon’s spies. That was an advantage. And he doubted Vitellius knew about the trip to Denerim.

He calmed down somewhat and turned to his apprentice. He had made his decision.

‘You go to Ferelden this very minute,’ he ordered her. ‘Take as many men you think are necessary. I want those two captured whatever the costs. Go by sea or land, I don’t care. As long as you deliver my little wolf and his bird of prey at my feet as soon as possible, I’m happy. And don’t doubt the reward will be excellent.’

Hadriana felt relieved. Instead of the punishment she had feared, she received a new mission instead. That was a lot more than she had hoped for when she had entered this study.She went to the door.

‘And Hadriana.’ She halted. ‘Don’t fail me.’

‘I won’t,’ she said. A determined look shone in her sky-blue eyes.

-

After their – for now – fruitless visit to the runesmith, Wynne and Berran decided to go back to the Gnawed Noble. Hawke, Fenris and Varric ambled in their trail, unsure what to do next. A stroll through Denerim wasn’t a very inviting option in this weather and Hawke didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in the tavern. On the other hand, she wasn’t keen about visiting the Pearl either, like Varric proposed. Undoubtedly they could drink a few pints of good ale over there, or some glasses of outstanding whisky, but she didn’t feel like meeting Isabela and Zevran in the state of mind she was in. She felt restless and more than a little disappointed. Although she had feared the outcome of the confrontation with Brok Igulson, being left with nothing at all was perhaps even worse. The pig-headed attitude from the runesmith had made her despondent and she wasn’t so sure he would be more accommodating in a day or two, as Wynne believed.

‘I could speak with him as dwarf to dwarf,’ Varric offered generously. ‘Maybe that would get some result.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ Hawke sighed. ‘Yes, you’re both dwarfs and, yes again, both topsiders, but there ends every similarity. He’s a serious smith you are a, er...’ She sought for the right expression and a sudden brainwave struck her. A bright smile unfolded on her face. ‘A Merchant Prince,’ she sniggered. ‘Or even better: a Merchant Prince with a living weapon as a mistress.’ The smile became more bright. ‘Too colourful to his liking, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, you’re in great form this morning,’ Varric grinned, feeling not insulted whatsoever. ‘A Merchant Prince no less! I should put that on my business cart. I bet that would open the gates to Orzammar.’

‘Fifty silvers?’ Fenris suggested.

‘And don’t forget the crossbow-mistress part,’ said Hawke. ‘Could be extremely useful, that one. Could work wonders.’ And then she let out a loud gasp. ‘Speaking of wonders: look at that, the Wonders of Thedas!’

‘So?’ Fenris and Varric reacted simultaneously and somewhat bewildered while looking at the front of the shop Hawke pointed at.

‘I remember my father took me there when we visited Denerim ages ago. It is amazing! He bought me a book of Fereldan legends and fairytales on that occasion. Come on, let’s go inside!’ She almost waltzed to the shop, reluctantly followed by the elf and the dwarf.

‘I remember that book,’ Fenris muttered grudgingly. ‘Rubbish.’

‘Reading lessons?’ Varric informed, empathically.

‘Don’t start about it. The lessons weren’t too bad, mind you.’ The little mischievously smile taught Varric a lot about the bigger picture of said lessons. ‘The reading though ...’ And the picture got even bigger. Or perhaps more vivid. Before he had the opportunity to ask questions, however, they were dragged inside a whole new world.

The Wonders of Thedas had shelves attached to all the walls, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. At the back, two staircases led to another level that held, if possible, more Wonders. There was more on display than they eyes could behold and the brain could absorb. There was an overflow of books and maps and statues. Little dolls and charms littered the place. And there was a counter which was manned by a tranquil made mage. Behind him rows of poultices were stacked in several cabinets. ‘

Can I help you?’ he asked with that toneless voice that all tranquil shared.

And then, despite, or perhaps better, in contradiction to his condition, his eyes seem to grow wide with astonishment.

‘Serah Hawke ..?’ he asked somewhat hesitantly.

Marian started. ‘You know me?’ she said, gobsmacked.

‘Yes ... it was a long time ago but I remember you. You were small back then, just a little girl, I recall... I recall… You’re a spitting image of your father.’ He gave her a wavering smile. ‘What brought you back?’

Hawke had no reminiscence of the tranquil mage but, then again, there had been so many things to admire back then. She probably hadn’t even noticed him that day, long ago. She took a step forward. ‘As a matter of fact, my father is the reason why I’m in Denerim. Did you know him well? I don’t remember him talking about you.’ _A tranquil. Of course he never mentioned him, all mages fear tranquil, or rather what they symbolize: the power of the Templars, ever so often abused_.

He looked at her in that typical distracted way. ‘Indeed I did. After all I acted as his runesmith.’

‘You were ... what?’ Hawke was confused, to say the least about it. ‘But I thought that dwarf, Brok Igulson ...’ her voice faltered.

‘Ah yes. He too worked as his runesmith. For the common runes, if you can speak about common in relation to what your father did.’ He smiled at her in an artificial manner. ‘I enchanted the most important object.’ He fell silent.

‘Which was?’ Hawke encouraged him when the silence became awkward. She wasn’t entirely certain she was eager to hear this part, but she didn’t want to turn down this unexpected chance to learn more about her father’s exploits either. She suddenly got the feeling that something of vital significance was about to be revealed and swallowed nervously. She heard Fenris shift behind her and not a moment later felt his hand rest ever so slightly against her elbow. She was grateful for his support.

‘You know he made protective runes?’ the tranquil asked after a pause. The monotone droning of his voice began to work on her nerves.

Hawke nodded, swallowing back her disquiet. ‘I’ve heard all about it.’

‘Then you must know about his most important project.’

Hawke didn’t but wasn’t willing to admit it, simply out of fear he would back down.

‘It was about shielding mages from their own magic,’ he continued and Hawke felt her hackles starting to rise. ‘After a lot of research and a considerable amount of effort, Malcolm Hawke had developed two different rune. One to block the flow of mana immediately, and another to slowly drain it and let it disappear forever.’

Hawke stiffened and Fenris tightened his grip.

Part of her wanted to stop the tranquil proprietor from talking, but a voice inside her head, the voice of reason she suspected, told her she should be glad she finally got some answers.

Before she could make a decision, however, the tranquil mage went on. ‘There was only one big difficulty,’ he said. ‘To let the influence of the runes be successful, they needed to be worked into a special metal called amantium. And the problem was that this particular metal is, in fact, mythical. It has been described in various tomes, not only because of the amazing properties it holds, but also because it never has been discovered.’

Marian exhaled with relief. Her fears had been unfounded after all.

‘That is to say, as far as I know, there exists just one little piece,’ the proprietor droned on, and he sounded ominous, despite his lack of emotions. ‘A ring was made out of it and I enchanted it with the two runes. It is the very ring you’re wearing on your left hand.’

Hawke’s eyes flew open and she made a choking sound.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can imagine all Hawke's fears seem to matrialise and come true at once. As some kind of mean thunderstruck.  
> Luckily she has Fenris at her side.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

-

Fenris’s hand immediately moved away from Hawke’s elbow and caught her arm instead. He feared she would do something stupid, like attacking the tranquil proprietor or running off into a city she didn’t know, to end up Maker knew where or said Maker knew in what kind of trouble. His other hand closed around her shoulder with the force of a vice. Her breath hitched and she staggered for a moment but to his amazement and, to be honest also to his unease, she didn’t even try to wriggle out of his firm grasp. He would had been more comfortable with a screaming and kicking Hawke; that part of her was predictable and not too difficult to handle. He wasn’t certain what would happen if she really broke down and gave in to despair.

‘I fucking knew it,’ he heard her grunt hoarsely. ‘I knew it, I fucking knew it. Bloody hell.’

‘Marian ...’ he mumbled tentatively, not certain if there wouldn’t be an outburst after all. Better so stay alert. He felt her body go taut and then start to tremble. He fastened his hold even more and she leant limply against him.

A whole battalion of various emotions marched through her head. She was shocked despite her already existing suspicions (but some suspicions just beg to be denied) and scared out of her wits for the consequences; she could imagine the demons closing in and Berran locking her up with a contented and devilish sneer. If that wasn’t enough, somewhere in between anger slowly began to boil and then a sudden crushing feeling of betrayal hit her like a stone fist. ‘He should have told me. Why didn’t he tell me?’ she croaked with a throaty sob.

Fenris turned her around, wrapped his arms around her and held her frame close to his. It wasn’t hard to guess whom she referred to. ‘Perhaps he meant to but never got the opportunity,’ he said gently.

She wanted to pummel him but he held her too tight to even leave her the liberty to move a finger. ‘Never got the opportunity?!’ she suddenly seethed in fast growing rage. ‘There were opportunities all over the place! I lived in the same house with the man for years, for Andraste’s sake! Every day there were plenty of opportunities to explain why he made me into the biggest lie of all mages!’

Ah, this was more like it. An angry Marian Hawke was easier to cope with than a dismayed one. ‘I don’t think you have been listening –‘

‘I’ve been listening damn well enough to understand that I was right all along!’ she growled.

‘No, Marian. If you really had been listening, you had heard that your mana is indeed nonexistent. Nothing has changed,’ Fenris said patiently while he kept holding her in a steel grip.

‘Everything has changed!’ she spat heatedly, wriggling without result. ‘I wasn’t born without mana; I’ve been made into something unnatural by two runes and a piece of creepy metal! I’m a disguise, a maleficar, not better than an abomination! I fucking knew it!’

Okay, anger was fine. Unreasonable became disturbing; it reminded him of her belligerent rant in the Deep Roads after Carver was carried off by the Grey Wardens. But before he could react, they got interrupted by Varric.

The dwarf had wandered off to the higher level of the shop to inspect the Wonders Thedas had to offer up there, while Hawke and Fenris were having there unsettling conversation with the proprietor. At this moment Fenris saw him out of the corner of his eye descending the staircase, holding something in his hand.

‘Look at this, Hawke,’ he called out cheerfully, ‘I found a golem doll with an unbelievable eerie resemblance to your uncle – what the hell is going on?!’ He held his step and his eyes flashed from Hawke and the elf to the tranquil mage and back. He automatically reached for his crossbow but stopped halfway when he saw Fenris shaking his head.

Marian tried to break free, Fenris, however, embraced her as if he held her prisoner, what pretty much was the case.

‘Varric,’ she hotly hissed through clenched teeth, ‘you go back to that bloody runesmith and drag him in here, and you can make a pincushion out of him as far as I care if he refuses to come with you.’

‘What is going on?’ Varric asked warily, still holding his step and still not sure if Bianca wouldn’t come in handy.

‘A revelation of Andrastian proportions,’ Fenris answered dryly. ‘At least that’s what Marian has got into her head. Do me a favour and fetch Wynne and Berran, if you please.’

‘No!’ Hawke cried out. ‘I don’t want them to know! Maker knows what that Seeker will do! And let go off me, you blasted elf!’

‘You can’t keep them out of this. And calm down before I have to knock you out.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Watch me.’

‘Eh, if I may interfere in a matrimonial fight, I think the elf is right about this one, Hawke,’ Varric said. It was obvious something had occurred that had made Hawke utterly upset and you didn’t have to be a genius to deduct what it was about. He knew damn well he risked an explosion of white-hot fury by backing Fenris but at this moment he relied on the elf’s opinion – and his strength.

Hawke let out a scream of frustration, wrestled some more without result and finally gave in. ‘Oh, all right. Go and get them over here. But if he takes me into custody and do all kinds of nasty stuff to me, it will be on your head.’

‘I’ll take that risk,’ Fenris said with the calm of someone who knew none of such would happen.

She suddenly had to think about that night when they thought the Templars were after her and he had dragged her into that alley, where they had been standing against the wall, their bodies pressed into each other. A giggle escaped her. ‘You always know what to do, don’t you,’ she said.

Not surprisingly Fenris had been thinking about the same night. ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied. ‘I just try. Mostly I follow my instinct. Is it safe again to let you go free?’ Hawke nodded. ‘No shouting, wielding daggers or smashing the place to bits?’

She blew out some air. ‘I promise.’ And after that, ‘Would you really have knocked me out?’

‘Hmm. Perhaps I might have tried another scenario first,’ he smiled crookedly, ‘although I’m not sure you wouldn’t have bitten me.’

She stared at him. ‘Do you still trust me?’ she asked with a small voice.

He rested his forehead against hers. ‘You have asked me this before. On a very memorable night, as I recall. My answer back then was yes and I see no reason to change that now. How many times do I have to repeat myself?’

All this time the tranquil mage had eyed them impassively from behind his counter. ‘I believe the things I said have caused a great deal of distress,’ he now observed.

Fenris looked up. ‘You can say that again. I don’t suppose you keep a bottle of Antivan brandy somewhere around?’

‘I do,’ Varric said; he produced a little flask out of an inside pocket and tossed it to the elf who deftly caught it. ‘I’ll be off then. See you in a couple of minutes.’

Fenris passed the flask on to Marian. ‘Don’t empty it in one go,’ he warned her, ‘you have experienced the result.’

She laughed a bit shakily while she uncorked the little vessel. ‘I can still feel the headache an overdose of this stuff cost me,’ she grinned, before taking a small sip. The liquid burned down her throat but almost immediately helped to relax her mental strain.

‘I do apologize for my exaggerated reaction,’ she turned to the proprietor. ‘After all, you only told the truth I was looking for.’

Blank faced he stared back at her. ‘You did not insult me,’ he said emotionless.

_No. Even if I would call you a dim-witted arse of a retarded monkey you probably wouldn’t feel insulted. Remind me to ask Fenris’s opinion about this kind of criminal actions that turn a man into an automaton. Or better not; I don’t feel like putting up a fight with him. Not ever again. And please stop rambling in your own head._

‘I really have to work on my temper,’ she mumbled, ‘it’s even getting on _my_ nerves.’

‘You don’t say. And that’s only one part of you I have to cope with,’ Fenris said mischievously.

She cocked an eyebrow. ‘There are enough parts of me you cope with very well,’ she commented with a lopsided smile. Behind her back she heard the shop’s door open.

‘Serah Hawke?’ Wynne’s voice sounded worried. ‘Varric told us something has happened but he didn’t say what. Good morning, Arden. I trust things are going well with the Wonders of Thedas?’

‘As always, First Enchanter.’

‘I see you’ve already met Marian Hawke and Fenris ..?’ Wynne informed carefully. She couldn’t help notice the traces of distress that were still visible on the face of the other woman.

‘The young lady had some kind of fit but it is over now,’ the tranquil said in that uncanny flat tone.

‘You know him?’ Marian managed, slightly light headed.

‘Arden was once part of our Circle,’ Wynne explained. ‘But after he only just survived his harrowing, he volunteered to be made tranquil. Better that than to be confronted with demons he had to fight off all the time. At least that was his argument.’

Marian stared at the mage and wished Wynne hadn’t given her this information. She decided to ignore it for the moment. ‘Where are Varric and Berran?’ she asked instead. She took another quaff of the brandy before re-corking the flask and putting it in one of her pockets. No use to get drunk at this moment.

‘Collecting Brok Igulson. On your command, if I have understood that well. Varric mentioned with glee he had permission to turn him into a pincushion, your permission no less.’

Hawke grimaced. ‘Ouch. I hope he didn’t take that one too literally; it’s so hard to interrogate a dead person. But the little bugger has been hiding vital information from us.’

‘I thought we already established that and that we agreed to pay him another visit within a day or two.’ Wynne tried not to sound irritably.

‘I’m aware of that. But I think his tongue will loosen with – Arden was it? present as a witness. And what is the use of asking the same questions twice?’ She felt like she was floating at this moment. Something was very wrong. Something was about to be revealed and she knew for certain she didn’t want to hear it. Not after all the things she had been forced to listen to she hadn’t want to know in the first place. She had to admit she drew comfort from Fenris’s presence so close by, his hands hovering to grab or catch her if she would lose her grip. At this moment he was her lifeline to the actual world. She was certain that if any demon would dare to materialize and harass her, Fenris would sooner kill it than she, in the state she was momentarily in.

Wynne frowned confused. ‘What are you talking about?’

Hawke composed herself. _Get a grasp on yourself, you twat. No use to whine over milk already spilled. You know what to expect when that dwarf finally finds his tongue. Don’t try to hide_. She gestured towards the tranquil mage named Arden. ‘Apparently you are acquainted with the gentleman over there but not well enough to know he performed one hell of a trick.’

Wynne’s face resembled even more a question mark but before Hawke could explain, the door opened once again and a fuming and cursing Brok Igulson got dragged in by Varric and Berran.

‘You have no right to do this!’ the runesmith shouted. ‘You have no warrant, I want to see a warrant! I’m an honest businessman!’

‘Just shut up or I make you,’ Berran threatened.

‘Seekers don’t need a warrant,’ Hawke said coolly and in the way the dwarf’s face changed from indignant fury to rigid terror in merely a heartbeat, she realized the Seeker hadn’t revealed his identity. She almost pitied the smith. Almost. ‘I see you have managed to keep Bianca silent and at peace,’ she smiled at Varric.

‘It took a lot of persuasion; the way he went on with his diatribe, she got rather twitchy,’ her dwarven friend grumbled.

‘I’m pleased to see you showed her who’s in charge,’ Hawke grinned. She straightened her shoulders, throwing off all of her anxieties for the moment. ‘Now we’re all together as one big happy family, I suggest we close the shop and find a quiet place to have a nice chat about some very interesting topics,’ she merrily said.

-

They had withdrawn into a chamber behind the shop that served as Arden’s living and bedroom. It was a small space that contained not much more than a bed, a wardrobe, a table and a few simple wooden chairs. They had to make use of crates to have everybody seated.

‘And the thought never crossed your mind to tell this to your First Enchanter,’ Berran said irritably after Arden had explained for the second time what he had done on Malcolm Hawke’s bidding. The mage looked perfectly blank and not comprehending, as could be expected.

‘Berran,’ Wynne said softly, ‘he’s a tranquil; he doesn’t come up with initiatives.’

‘Yes, how wonderful this Templar solution works out,’ Hawke commented sarcastically. ‘Remind me to shoot me first before someone comes up with the idea to do that to me.’

Fenris shivered inwardly at the thought of Marian being like this Arden; he looked at him from the corner of his eye and suppressed a wince. He saw nothing but a man deprived of all normal feelings and reactions, deprived of all that made him human, elven, dwarven, living. Being. Just the imagination of her looking like that ... without her angry outbursts, without her vivid expression and gestures, without her wit and irony and without her passion ... she would be nothing more than an empty shell. A walking, talking and reasoning device with no feelings, no need for heated discussions and no desire to make love, not even being able to love at all. He had always considered the turning of dangerous or failing mages tranquil a perfect alternative for killing them, as far as he had given it a thought whatsoever. But now he was confronted with such an alternative, he felt appalled and even sickened. In the midst of his contemplations he wondered if this had been Malcolm Hawke’s motive to dedicate himself so passionately to the creation of protective runes. If so, he would applaud that initiative even long after the man’s death.

‘I still don’t see what I have to do with all this,’ Brok Igulson piped up with a voice too small to match the anger he tried to personify.

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it,’ Marian said sternly, sharply turning to the black bearded dwarf. ‘You were my father’s regular runesmith; I bet he first came to you with the request of enchanting this ring. And I don’t want to hear anyone call “fifty silvers”,’ she added ominously.

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Varric mumbled.

Brok Igulson fidgeted on his crate, visibly struggling with his conscience. Nervously he pulled at his bushy beard.

‘I would come clear if I were you,’ Varric advised, watching his trepidation with mild concern. ‘I for one would sooner undergo the questioning methods of the Seekers than face Hawke’s wrath. And you have a choice here.’

The other dwarf seemed to come to the same conclusion after eyeing Marian’s dark look. ‘I, er, I couldn’t do it,’ he confessed. ‘I consider myself a good runesmith, a very good one if I may say so myself, but what Malcolm Hawke asked me to do went beyond my capabilities. With a lot of effort I did manage to craft the ring out of the small piece of metal he brought with him but I failed to enchant it. It pained me to disappoint Malcolm but amantium turned out to be very difficult to work with. It’s hard to explain, but it seems to have a spirit of its own. It felt as if it fought against being shaped into a ring in the first place and it refused completely all the methods known to me to accept the runes. I suppose it requires a special mind to bend it to one’s will, a tranquil mind apparently. I, however, didn’t know Hawke went to our tranquil friend over here and that he succeeded in getting the job done,’ he ended, somewhat sourly.

‘A good thing then that I stumbled upon him by pure chance,’ Hawke said grimly. ‘And now you have started to talk, by all means, keep going on. I, for example, am very curious about what you can tell us about my father’s code language.’ She didn’t want to pay much attention to the technical part of the story; she knew beforehand she would understand little to nothing about it and thought it wouldn’t help very much to unravel the mystery.

‘Just a moment,’ the Seeker butted in. ‘I want to know why Malcolm Hawke insisted on that ring being made for his daughter.’

_I don’t want to know at all, Hawke thought, but I won’t be able to stop the answer I’m afraid. Oh well, brace yourself, here it comes_.

Brok Igulson sighed and cast a cautious glance in Marian’s direction. ‘Because he was certain she was a very powerful mage, even more powerful then he was. The most powerful mage ever born in fact. “A mage that can shape, change or destroy the world.” That were his words on that faithful night, as I recall.’ He shot her a wavering smile. ‘I remember you as you were back then, a little missy with two blonde, almost white braided pigtails, looking at the world with bright blue inquisitive eyes, playing with the straw dolly I gave you to distract you from the conversation I had with your father, singing and dancing around the smithy. I reckon you were not older than five or six years, maybe even younger. And yet you managed to rekindle my furnace without giving a glimpse at the bellows. It seemed you didn’t even see them. Malcolm said you just knew the coals needed a boost.’ He bowed his head. ‘His voice sounded somewhere between pride and utmost fear at that moment.’ Brok’s own voice at _this_ moment sounded somewhere between pleading and the sour-sweet reminiscent of that memorable occurrence. ‘At first it was hard to believe him, but after you managed to revive the fire absentmindedly, as it seemed, I couldn’t deny his suspicions. And fears. You were not more than a bairn back then! A little one of your age wasn’t supposed to manage that. They usually only set the whole place on fire, not just the furnace.’

Fenris remembered the arcane horror on his landing and the thugs in the slum and didn’t refute any of Igulsons’s words.

Marian couldn’t remember any of what had happened in the smithy and wanted very hard not to pay any attention to the bring-the-dead-fire-back-to-life part, so she stuck to the most important piece of information. ‘And he didn’t trust me being able to control that power,’ she remarked resentfully. She tried to swallow a big lump in her throat.

‘That was not the main reason,’ Brok Igulson hastened to say. ‘He was far more afraid someone would find out, someone with bad intentions, someone who’d want to take advantage of you.’ He was silent for a moment and then murmured, nearly audible, ´A mage that can shape, change or destroy the world.´But Marian caught his words quite clearly. And his frightened look.

She leaned back, folded her arms and looked at the Seeker with a glare wrought out of ice, lava and spite. ‘You were convinced my father was involved in some sort of secret weapon,’ she sneered derisively, ‘and lo! here it is! You were right after all. The secret weapon is sitting right in front of you. In the flesh. Shouldn’t you rejoice! A candle lighted in thanks to your precious Andraste would be in place, I deem. By now you undoubtedly want to drag me to your Divine as your price and win her everlasting gratitude.’ She decided she could find a suitable wall to bang her head against later on, now it was important to keep her head cool. Sarcasm helped. At the same moment she felt Fenris’s hand gripping her wrist. Without turning her head she said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to disembowel him or anyone else – yet.’ With a cocked eyebrow she observed the expression on Berran’s face. Rather confused and presently not capable to respond. Good. Press on ‘Please, Ser dwarf, explain about the code language. I believe that was my question before our honoured Seeker interfered.’

The black bearded dwarf looked nervously from her to the Seeker and back but decided the former little happy girl was at this moment the most dangerous of the two. ‘Yes, I know about the code-language although I can’t read it. I do know however when your father started to use it.’ He cast a sidelong glance at Wynne. Another woman not to be neglected or played with. Little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. ‘It was after he found the piece of amantium in the old archive of the Circle at Lake Calenhad.’

‘What?’ Wynne exclaimed, completely taken aback. ‘You mean that ... in our Tower?!’

‘It was one of the reasons why he came to Ferelden,’ Brok Igulson continued, wiping the sweat of his brow, ‘besides the fact he hated the whole of the Tevinter Imperium and what it represents. He had found a book in the Minrathous’ Circle library that hinted at the existence of an amantium mine somewhere in the Frostback Mountains and asserted a nugget of the metal would be in the possession of the Fereldan Circle of Magi. It was an obscure tome, mind you, and Hawke wasn’t certain about its authenticity but it gave him the final boost to run away from Tevinter.’

Hawke conjured the puzzling map somewhere out of her armour and handed it over to the runesmith. ‘Does this look familiar to you?’

Fenris still had his hand on her wrist, lightly. He didn’t think she would go on a murdering rampage by now but one could never be certain.

The dwarf looked astounded from the map to her. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘We found it in the Deep Roads under the Free Marches. I’ve been wondering how it ended up there ever since.’

‘I think I have an idea,’ Brok Igulson murmured. He stared at the drawing. ‘Although I’m not sure what brought it that far from the Frostback Mountains.’ He looked up at the assembled faces, all full of expectation, safe from Arden. ‘But perhaps it’s better to follow the order of events instead of randomly jumping back and forward.’ Most of the faces agreed. ‘Not long after Malcolm Hawke arrived at the Tower, I received an invitation to meet him.’

‘I remember that,’ Wynne said, ‘Malcolm had asked First Enchanter Irving if he knew a good runesmith and he recommended you.’

Brok Igulson nodded. ‘And we went along together very well from the first moment on.’ He smiled almost apologetically. ‘After all, we both shared a passion for runes. He showed me the map he had copied from the old tome. This very map. He asked me if I knew anything about the site of the mysterious mine. Back then I had never heard about such a mine and was certain no one even in Orzammar had. But with some difficulty I managed to contact the only dwarves who possibly could know something about it: the Legion of the Dead. Because they remain permanently in the Deep Roads and are familiar with almost every trench and cave down there.’

‘The Legion of the Dead! I can’t imagine they were willing to cooperate,’ Varric remarked. ‘They do not deal with the living, as they consider themselves as deceased already.’

‘At first they weren’t,’ the runesmith confirmed, ‘until, after combing every inch of the archive in the cellar, Hawke actually found the piece of amantium in a forgotten corner. A forgotten corner in a forgotten archive in a forgotten cellar,’ he chuckled timorously and started sweating again. ‘It was just lying there, collecting dust in the midst of half crumbled scrolls. Then again, to the inexperienced eye the metal looks just like silver. After some tests, however, Hawke was able to identify the metal as being actual amantium. That piqued even the interest of the Legion. Captain Kardol himself came up to Lake Calenhad Docks to see the nugget with his own eyes. Malcolm Hawke gave him the map but, as far as I know, the mine has never been never found. If it exists anyway.’ Again he had to sweep away sweat and wordlessly he accepted the handkerchief Wynne offered him.

‘So, the Legion of the Dead knew about the metal,’ Marian said pensively. By now she was convinced that if her father had thought the mine was real, it really existed.

‘Of course they did. Every dwarf does,’ ‘Brok Igulson said in a rough voice. He handed Wynne back the now rather soaked handkerchief.

‘I didn’t,’ Varric said.

Brok Igulson looked him up and down. ‘I’m not sure you can be called a real dwarf, what without a beard and with all that exposed chest hair. No offence meant.’

‘None taken,’ Varric said happily. ‘Maybe I even consider it a compliment.’

The runesmith coughed. ‘Before I go on, can I have something to drink? My throat is getting dry.’

‘I could make some tea,’ Arden offered. They all turned to him in astonishment. A tranquil suggesting something of his own account was unheard of.

‘Are you alright, Arden?’ Wynne informed guardedly.

‘I am, First Enchanter,’ he replied. ‘The remark of the dwarf simply reminded me of the fact that I am thirsty. Is something wrong with that?’

Wynne shook her head. ‘No, Arden, nothing is wrong with that.’

_Everything is wrong with that,_ Fenris thought, appalled _._

Despite Wynne’s friendly words, Brok Igulson, shuddered. ‘I meant something stronger than flavoured boiled water, if you don’t mind.’

‘My kind of dwarf,’ Varric beamed.

‘I shall be off to the kitchen then,‘ Arden started but before he could end his sentence a husky female voice cut through his words.

‘Oh sweetness, are you in here?’ a low alt suddenly chimed in a sing song tone from somewhere out of the shop.

The Seeker covered his eyes with his hand and groaned loudly. ‘O holy Andraste, not that woman. Not now.’

Not moments later Isabela swayed into the small room, closely followed by Zevran. She managed to fill the space immediately with not only her personality but also with – Marian had no name for the gadget at the very moment. She was not only mesmerised, but also almost got injured by – it.

‘Ah, here you are. Here you all are! Edwina was right all along when she told us you retired in here!’

‘I’ll strangle her,’ Berran grumbled, referring to the Gnawed Noble proprietress. ‘How the hell did you get in?’ he cried out in desperation. ‘The door was locked!’

‘So?’ Isabela said, genuinely astonished. ‘Never stopped Zevran before. Or me, except once,’ she added with uncharacteristically honesty.

Fenris still got the shivers, thinking about her relentless efforts to spy upon him and Marian whilst being entangled in an act made cheap by her interference. That is to say, she made it feel cheap because of the methods she used to sneak up on them – well, making love had nothing to do with the way she tried to snoop. _Love_ had nothing to do with it. Avoiding her prying eyes had exhausted him more than the actual deed.

Open-mouthed Marian stared at her. ‘What, in Andraste’s name, are you carrying on your head?!’

Isabela twirled. ‘Didn’t I once tell you I found an amazing hat shop in Kirkwall?’ she tittered. ‘Then let me tell you now, that shop pales into less than a shadow compared to the store I came across in this town. You won’t believe the wonderful hats they sell in there!’

‘I wouldn’t if I didn’t see the painful evidence before my very eyes,’ Fenris mumbled.

‘Well, what do you think?!’ Isabela rattled on. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?!’

‘I, er, I, yes, I’m speechless,’ Marian stuttered in truth.

Varric studied the construction with great interest. ‘I see you have robbed an orchard, several of them, in fact. And you have uprooted a dozen or so flowerbeds. Ah, and I notice a galleon got shipwrecked in the middle of all the greenery. Nice touch that one. By the way, are those real birds that got themselves trapped, mistaking your contraption for lustrous woodland, or are they part of the landscape?’

Defiantly Isabela put her hands on her hips. ‘Ugh, you horrible dwarf, you don’t have any sense for fashion whatsoever!’

‘That may be, I do, however, have good taste. But look at it this way, you can always rent yourself out as a shelter against a cloudburst or a sunstroke. At least half of the population of Ferelden are able to find refuge under that rim. Must be good money in that business. But as long as you’re here, you don’t happen to have any decent ale upon you, have you?’

Zevran looked around the room with the bright smile that seemed to be his trademark. ‘Yes, I can see the problem,’ he said, not taking notice of the tension that had crept into the walls and even the ceiling, although Marian was certain he was very much aware of it. ‘My lovely Queen of the Seas, I suggest we go and remedy the lack of decent drinks.’

‘But my hat –‘ Isabela started.

‘-will survive another criss-cross to the Gnawed Noble and back, no doubt,’ Zevran filled in smoothly. He winked at Marian while he ushered Isabela out of the room. She felt Fenris’s grip tightening.

‘Perhaps this is a silly question,’ the elf said after the baroque hat and its Antivan lover had retrieved in search for some ale, ’but no matter how hard I look, I can’t see any runes worked into the ring Marian is wearing.’

All the heads present turned again to Arden.

‘They’re on the inside,’ he declared toneless. ‘Malcolm Hawke didn’t want them to be seen. He didn’t want them to attract any attention.’

At those words all the heads present turned to Hawke.

‘No!’ she exclaimed, ‘I’m not taking it off! Maker knows what it will do to me!’

And now she finally broke. She jumped up and ran off – at least that’s what she intended to do. Two strong elven hands prevented her escape. Crying she collided with a muscular body; lanky it might be but strong even more and there was no denying or evading that fact. She simply ended up in his arms before she even had the chance to flee.

‘I can kiss you or knock you flat out at the very moment,’ her whispered softly in her ear, ‘it’s your decision. Running away will do you no good, my love, you in the least.’

With much effort she composed herself and swallowed back the angry and desperate tears. She turned to the gathering, only held up on her trembling feet by her beloved and understanding elf. She closed her eyes and opened them again with a flair of brilliant shining sapphire that knocked them all out. Even Berran. And even Arden; that is to say he looked intensely at her in an almost not tranquil way. She had made her decision. ‘Alright, before I’m going to kill somebody, is there anyone we can address for help or further information to find that blasted mine?’ She managed to surprise Fenris, let alone the rest of the group. Not a moment ago she seemed weak and defeated, now her eyes shone with renewed vigour.

‘There is a dwarven miss I’ve heard of who became a Warden,’ Brok Igulson volunteered timidly. ’She’s called Sigrun. She once was a member of the Dead Legion, the only one who survived the massacre at Kal’Hirol. She lives in Vigil’s Keep, close to the city of Amaranthine. She served under the Warden Commander, otherwise known as the Hero or the Queen of Ferelden. She’s the only known member of the Legion to be actually alive and above ground.’

‘Fine,’ Marian said grimly, ‘let’s pay this dwarf a visit.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always liked Sigrun. In fact, she was my favourite character in the Awakening. A no nonsense dwarf and the only one who could put Oghren in his place. And, for a `dead` person, with a very cheery disposition. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And introducing more characters, including a well known one...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 21

-

Hadriana was getting extremely annoyed, not to say she was beside herself with fury, although she managed quite well to hide her anger behind a veil of self-control. Up till now the trip that she and her entourage, consisting of fifty armed men, four mages and two slaves, had started in Minrathous, had gone smoothly. They had travelled through Nevarra without any troubles to speak of and had been able to make good progress, since they had decided to make use of horses. She wasn’t particularly fond of horseback riding or horses in general, but she had to admit they had allowed them to make good time, however. Much better, at any rate, than when they would have journeyed by sea, considering the detour they would have been forced to take. But now they had arrived at Cumberland, their good fortune seemed to have come to a halt. She had left her small army outside the walls of the city, together with three mages, and had put up at a tavern with her two slaves, for the occasion her so called servants, and her personal assistant Titia. The latter was a young talented female mage who would become her official apprentice when Hadriana had risen to the rank of magister. Hadriana had sent her to the harbour to find a ship destined for Denerim, but the girl had returned without any result. So she had gone to arrange things herself, convinced that there was nothing a good arrogant attitude or, if need be, the clink of gold coins couldn’t accomplish. It turned out she was wrong. At this very moment she was quarrelling with the harbourmaster in the man’s office about passage on a ship bound for the capital of Ferelden.

‘For the last time, Serah, the next ship destined for Denerim will leave in five days and not an hour sooner,’ the harbourmaster said, getting tired of the woman’s persistence. ‘But I highly doubt that they are willing to take you and your fifty armed men on board. No captain I know of is comfortable being surrounded by an army that is not under his command.’

Hadriana very much wanted to scorch him, freeze him or imbed him in stone until he cooperated, but that was out of the question. It was not recommended to use magic openly outside the Imperium, so she left it at glowering fiercely. When she came to the realisation that didn’t help either, she tried pleading. She pulled out all the stops, from a desperate look in her eyes to an irresistible charming smile; a successful magister (i.e. one who managed to survive all the Minrathous’ intrigues and conspiracies) had, besides all other things, to be an excellent actor and Hadriana knew every trick in the book.

‘Please, Serah, I have to go to Denerim as fast as possible. A relative of mine, who lives near the Brecillian Forest, has sent a request for aid against a plague of evil beasts that are pestering her and her family. As you know, the army of Ferelden is reduced to not much more than a small guard, so she can’t make an appeal to the King and Queen because they are not able to help her. Hence the armed men I bring with me. I have to go there as fast as possible; this is a matter of live and death!’ She was rather proud of this impromptu made up story because everybody knew there lurked strange and frightening creatures in the Brecillian Forest. Throughout Thedas the stories were used to make children compliant. It was one thing Fereldan was famous for, besides the dogs.

‘If you’re in such a hurry you could take a ship to Amaranthine,’ the harbourmaster suggested grumpily, ‘and from there travel over land to the Brecillian Forest. The Sea Eagle will set sail tomorrow morning. The captain is known to take passengers but you should be prepared to pay a lot of money, especially with that army of yours.’

‘Money is not an issue,’ Hadriana grumbled. She would gladly have purchased a ship and hired a crew if that were possible, but that would cost more time than she could afford to lose. She had no other option than to negotiate with the captain of the Sea Eagle (which she thought an ill chosen name for an ungainly carrier), to take them to Amaranthine. At first the burly, tanned man wasn’t willing at all, but after an hour of discussing and bargaining and the exchange of a considerable amount of money, the captain agreed. But only under the condition that the soldiers would stay in the hold and their weapons in the captain’s cabin. Hadriana wasn’t all too happy with that arrangement but understood she had no other choice. She felt more than relieved when they left Cumberland the next day to cross the Waking Sea on their way to Amaranthine. She was leaning against the rail, looking at the city that slowly turned into a vague line at the horizon. Titia was standing next to her; Hadriana cast a sidelong glance upon her apprentice.

‘Things are going differently than we expected or hoped for, but do not doubt we will catch them to drag them back to Minrathous. And I’m certain Danarius won’t object to us having a little fun with them along the way,’ she added. A little cruel smile played around her thin lips.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ the girl responded, mimicking the smile.

-

In Val Royeaux, in the meantime, as a matter of fact not that far from Cumberland, the Head of the Seekers, Baron Villefranche, was sitting behind his desk in his plain but efficiently furnished room. He looked the woman standing to attention before him up and down. He had read her file and found it remarkable; she looked like some innocent country girl with her soft heart shaped face, her cherry like mouth with pouty lips, and shining blue eyes. And yet...

‘I’ll come right to the point,’ he said curtly. ‘I know you joined our ranks only recently, but I’m inclined to let you be a part of an important and very secret mission. You lived in Lothering for a few years, didn’t you?’

‘Yes Messere,’ the woman answered. If she was surprised by the question, she masked it well.

Villefranche ruffled through the papers lying in front of him. ‘I understand you stayed in the village under the cover of a lay sister. Quite interesting, since you have been trained as a bard and I can hardly believe there was any reason to act as a spy in a backwater town in a backwater country. Unless, of course, you were using it as a hiding spot.’

Without blinking an eye the red-haired woman said, ‘I’m not so naive as to assume the Seekers didn’t know every detail about my past before they accepted me. I’m certain you read all about it.’

A shadow of a smile briefly fluttered across Villefranche’s face. ‘Indeed. The betrayal of your former mentor and lover Marjolaine, the false accusation of treason, the imprisonment and the torture you had to endure. And also your miraculous escape, and let’s not forget the thorough way you eliminated your mentor and her bodyguards in her safe house in Denerim. A very intriguing story, Serah Leliana.’

‘I had assistance,’ Leliana said, looking perfectly blank.

‘Yes, from the Hero of Ferelden no less. But I didn’t summon you here to talk about your past, at least not _that_ past. In your years as a lay sister in the Chantry of Lothering you must have met a young lady by the name of Marian Hawke.’

‘I could deny it, but it would be of no use, would it, because you already know,’ Leliana replied smartly.

He suppressed another smile. ‘Did you ever notice anything peculiar about her?’

Leliana shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Nothing more than that she was an intelligent girl and a very skilled rogue. Not much of a singing voice, though, and she lacked subtlety. No bard material.’

Villefranche leant back in his chair and waited a few moments for the effect to kick in at full force before he said, ‘So you didn’t know she is, in fact, a mage.’

Leliana raised her brow. ‘If that is true, she did conceal that well. She never showed any signs.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Perhaps I underestimated her knowledge of subtlety. Or maybe subterfuge would be the appropriate word in this case.’

The Head of the Seekers put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. He wondered what remark would make her snap. ‘I don’t think so. You see, the reason you didn’t notice is because she has no mana – apparently.’

Leliana wrinkled her forehead into little furrows. ‘But that’s impossible!’

‘Well, according to the testimony of a very reliable witness, it’s the truth.’ He hesitated for a moment before he continued. ‘You know the Marquis Albert Berran, the Head of the Special Assignment Section?’

‘I’ve heard of him.’

‘A few months ago he went on a secret operation without telling what it was all about. It is not unusual for him, or his agents, to act that way but the procedure is that they send a report at the moment they discover something of importance. We haven’t received any personal report whatsoever. We know by now he had gone to Kirkwall to find this Marian Hawke and meanwhile has rushed off to Denerim with the same mysterious mage, without even a word of explanation – that is, not from him. We obtained that piece of information from our own man in Kirkwall. It’s quite suspicious, to say the least about it. He is, by the way, also in the company of someone you know well: Wynne, the Fereldan First Enchanter. We think by now she is the one who set all this in motion.’

‘Wynne!’ Leliana this time exclaimed, taken by surprise. ‘But if she’s involved, I can hardly imagine something fishy is going on. She’s a trustworthy woman, I hold her in high esteem.’

Villefranche observed her intensely but couldn’t find anything but honest expression. Then again, she _was_ a bard. ‘I don’t question your judgment, although I’ve learned through experience no one can be trusted. It’s possible she has good intentions, just like that she might be using Berran for some dark scheme; it can be she acts in good faith but is deceived herself by a third person. But, whatever the case, Berran should have returned to our Headquarters, preferable in the company of this Marian Hawke, or at least reported and waited for an answer before he made such a rash move. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust it at all. I’m afraid something has come up, something disturbing and dangerous, something he doesn’t want us to know about.’

‘You suspect treachery,’ Leliana offered carefully, realising her unbard-like outburst and inwardly chastising herself for it.

‘As a matter of fact, I do, although I can’t fathom what it is all about. This behaviour is not like Berran. So, yes, I think much more is going on than a mage without mana.’ _As if that isn’t troublesome enough_ , he added in his mind. He let his eyes rest on the red haired woman still standing before him. She looked pensively. Perhaps he should have offered her a seat and something to drink but, then again, she was but a Junior Seeker, not much more than a recruit, be it a very promising one. And trustworthy. He was convinced her past would guarantee that she’d everything being said in this room keep a secret. She had learned a hard lesson. ‘The reason I want you to be part of this mission, Serah Leliana, is that you know both Marian Hawke and the First Enchanter closely. On the strict orders of the Divine herself, the Marquis isn’t to be harmed and on my orders that counts also for Marian Hawke and Wynne. They must be safely escorted to Val Royeaux. Of course the order is already given to the captain of the company, but I have a special assignment for you – a mission inside a mission if you will. I want you to gain the trust of the two women. Do you understand me?’

‘You want me to make them to confide in me and tell me their part of the story, before you have to take other measurements,’ Leliana said flatly.

‘Exactly. It would not only save us time but, more importantly, the use of – certain methods. I would like to avoid an incident with Ferelden. The Fereldan don’t harbour warm sentiments towards Orlais to start with and if they were to learn we took their First Enchanter captive, and worse, it could lead to dire consequences. Thus I assume that you appreciate this is a very delicate and important task you’re given. If you succeed, I assure you I will recommend you to the Divine Justinia personally.’

Leliana just nodded.

‘Needless to say no one else knows about this and no one is ever to find out. Do I make myself clear?’ Another short nod. ‘Then you are dismissed, Seeker.’

He stared at the closed door for a long time, hoping it would all work out in the way he wanted it to.

-

‘I trust you don’t need me any longer? I have a shop to run and a breastplate to finish, you know,’ Brok Igulson said, defiantly looking around the table.

Hawke waved him off. ‘You can go. But keep yourself available in case more questions pop up. By the way, thank you for your help.’

Isabela and Zevran had returned not long before, carrying two large pitchers with ale and a handful of mugs and the runesmith had gulped down the contents of a tankard in one go. Hawke wondered if only thirst had made him do that. He still looked flustered. And thirsty. But seeing Varric down his ale at the same speed, she was willing to believe it was a dwarf thing.

‘It’s not like I’m going anywhere,’ Brok Igulson muttered while he scurried out of the room, ‘you know where to find me.’

‘Sooo, Amaranthine,’ Isabela drawled after the door was shut. ‘I wonder what kind of wondrous shops they have been hiding over there.’ To everyone’s relief she had left her outrageous hat back in the Gnawed Noble. At least the chance of getting decapitated by a lustrous scenery whirled around by an enthusiastic pirate queen was reduced to a minimum.

‘Vigil’s Keep. Not Amaranthine,’ Hawke replied, absentmindedly staring at the map still lying on the table. Even though she knew by now what the marked spot indicated, she still felt uneasy when she looked at it. A mine, a mythical mine; probably it didn’t exist, most likely it did. After all, her father had been convinced it was there and thus there had to be some truth mixed with the myth. And that’s where the problem started. She was positive there was more to it. Something happened there, for good or for ill she couldn’t tell, but she knew for certain her father had been involved. How far had he been willing to go to obtain the priceless amantium? What had he done? What had he offered, or sacrificed? Automatically her fingers started fiddling with the ring on her left hand but the moment she got aware of it, she jerked back her right hand as if the metal had bitten or burned her.

‘What’s the difference,’ Isabela’s voice chimed and for a moment she was confused.

‘Hmm? What? Oh.’ Reality kicked in. ‘About twenty miles, I guess.’ She looked up and took a draught from her ale. She forced a smile. ‘But I suppose you will gladly cover that distance in your hunt for even more eccentric hats.’

‘You bet!’ Isabela beamed.

Berran, in the meantime, nervously tapped the wooden surface of the table with his fingers. He looked troublesome. ‘Serah Hawke, I don’t think it’s wise to go searching for that mine,’ he said. His eyes had also been fixed upon the map.

Hawke frowned. ‘Why? Getting cold feet? I thought you would be mighty interested in a mine full of metal to cage mages more sufficiently than the so called tranquil solution.’

‘Marian, don’t,’ Fenris murmured just nearly audible. ‘I think the man has good reasons.’ The words were spoken automatically. He didn’t want her to put up a scene – again. At this very moment he paid scarcely attention to the current conversation. The words _a mage who can shape, change or destroy the world_ kept resonating in his head. Her father must have been terrified when he found out, no wonder he had taken his drastic measurements. And how much did Danarius know about this? They still hadn’t talked about his interest in her, she had been adroitly avoiding the subject but it bothered him greatly. Undoubtedly  his former master had by now found out the Antivan Crow had turned against him but he knew for sure he wouldn’t let it rest. And he was as good as certain about whom he would send this time... He shuddered inwardly, just by the remembrance of her name.

As to emphasize the elf’s words, though he had hardly heard them, let alone was able to catch his deeper thoughts, Berran rubbed his face and sighed deeply. ‘Look, Serah Hawke,’ he started wearily, ‘I...’ He cut his own words short and hesitated. ‘We need to talk.’ He looked quite forlorn by now.

Fenris dragged his attention back to what was presently happening. He would force Marian to listen to his fears later. He could just hope she would heed his warnings but now was not the time. _Later, I’ll talk to her later and she’d better pay attention_ ... _for_ _her own sake ... and mine_.

‘We are talking right now, just keep going on.’ Despite her annoyance Marian discovered for one reason or the other she wasn’t as provoked by Berran as she used to be. There was something in his eyes and voice that suddenly touched her. She couldn’t define it immediately. Fear? Regret? Sorrow? Better to back down and let the man explain.

Berran stared at her with a look that said, “You can’t be serious”, while he with his eyes hinted at Isabela and Zevran. They both caught his glance at the very moment, as the rogues they were, but where Zevran wisely decided not to react, Isabela, on the other, hand felt hugely affronted and didn’t hesitate to spout her irritation.

‘Do elaborate,’ she said tartly, her chin in the air, ‘I for one can’t wait to hear your carefully thought through invented insinuations.’

‘I don’t think I have to,’ the Seeker grumbled.

‘Oh really? To be honest, hotshot, I don’t give a rat’s arse for _your_ well-being, but I would never betray Hawke.’ Her usually merrily sparkling velvet eyes were overcast with anger and even her cleavage radiated indignation. It was quite an unnerving sight to behold. ‘So, because of her you can make your confession without being afraid that you’ll wake up as a corpse in the morning.’ Her eyes locked with Berran’s and a terrible row hovered in the air.

As so often before Varric saved the day. ‘Rivaini, unless you are trying a hitherto never heard of audacious technique of seduction, I would backpedal if I were you. You can’t blame a man for not trusting a woman who likes to carry a rainforest upon her head. One never knows what kind of venomous evil will suddenly jump out of the greenery with the intension of a deadly attack.’

And as equally so often before, Isabela relaxed and laughed at the dwarf’s words. ‘You’re right, Varric, it’s not worth the trouble.’

Berran rolled his eyes but heroically held back a nasty remark. Instead he returned to Marian. ‘You see, I’m taking a big risk here,’ he told her.

Mostly out of habit, and certainly without thinking, she sneered sarcastically, ‘You. A Seeker. Taking a risk, a big one no less. Don’t make me laugh.’ She regretted the words at the same time she uttered them. She had pledged to herself – and Fenris - not to incite at every remark that annoyed her. It wasn’t that easy, apparently.

Out of his own habit Berran glared daggers at her. But then his look softened. After all, he had lost everything he once deemed important. He should hate her, but simply couldn’t. It was his own fault, after all. He looked at her and saw honesty, confusion and concern. ‘I’m doing all of this on my own account,’ he blurted, diving into the deep. ‘I should have reported back to my superior ages ago but I didn’t.’ His face twitched. ‘As a matter of fact, I didn’t even tell him where I was headed when I left Val Royeaux, although I don’t doubt for a second that, by now, he is well-informed. In short, Serah Hawke, I’ve lost my personal bet and with that lost all.’

Hawke was surprised. ‘So I take it you also have your suspicions about Gascard DuPuis, as much as I have,’ she said hesitantly, not exactly knowing how to interpret this confession.

‘Yes. And I wager my life upon it the little squirt not only darted to Minrathous as fast as he could but after that also hastened to the Seeker’s Headquarters as well to share every bit of information.’ Berran looked tired and added cautiously, ‘I’m afraid we’ve turned this whole situation into a smoke and mirrors game, Serah Hawke. Perhaps it’s better to come clear.’ He produced a very bleak smile. ‘I’m an ambitious man, Serah Hawke, and Wynne’s story sounded promising enough to follow the threads that led to you. I was hoping to return to Orlais with one hell of a discovery.’

‘And be welcomed in as a hero,’ Isabela smirked, a smirk drenched with vitriol. ‘I wonder what you thought would be your reward.’ Wynne urged her to silence but the pirate smelled the opportunity for revenge, especially when she saw Berran’s flushed face. Her smile broadened. ‘A woman’s favour, I presume ..?’ Of course she had a special antenna for this kind of things. The Seeker glanced at her and his discomfort was almost palpable. For the first time Hawke regarded him as a real human, instead of a walking menace or nuisance.

‘Isabela, shut up,’ she said irritably. ‘Please, Berran, do continue.’

The Seeker took a deep breath. ‘It may sound strange, after all what we have been throwing at each other, but I trust you. I believe you really knew even less about the entire situation than Wynne and I did.’ He clenched his fist. ‘At this very moment I’m trying to keep you and myself out off the Divine’s reach; I don’t want you to fall into the hands of the interrogators at the Headquarters, not any more. To be honest, that was the main reason to come to Denerim, although I fear they will find out soon enough we’re here instead of in Kirkwall. If they don’t know already.’

‘O fuck,’ Hawke muttered, while dragging her hand through her hair. She finally looked up between detangled bangs. ‘You’re trying to tell me we’ve ended up in the same boat? That you are as vulnerable and exposed and being hunted as I am?’ He just nodded without making a sound. ‘Well, that’s just perfect. If I understand you well, the Divine has sent by no doubt every Seeker that draws breath chasing after us. Add that to the Tevinter bastards Danarius has on the road, we can cook up one hell of a fox hunt.’ She shook her head and with a sudden flare of empathy she said, ‘I feel truly sorry for you. You lost your job and your status and presumably can never return to Orlais.’

Berran tried not to cringe. ‘I only have myself to blame,’ he said gloomily, ‘and my ambition.’

‘Pardon me for asking,’ Zevran piped up, ‘but if staying in one place is deemed dangerous, why are you opposed to look for that mine? It seems to me the mountains are a perfect place to disappear. Nothing like some decent peaks, passes and caves to cover one’s tracks.’

‘Speaking from experience, I assume?’ Varric remarked, masking a grin. The broad grin Zevran returned as response taught the dwarf the former assassin wasn’t ashamed about his history at all. For some reasons Varric admired him for it.

Berran took a deep breath. ‘That has nothing to do with the situation. I just can’t shake off the feeling the place is some kind of trap.’

‘So I’m not the only one having the nasty hunch something is terribly wrong with that place?’ Marian said surprised.

‘Definitely not.’ The Seeker’s eyes seemed to be more black and ominous than ever.

Now the attention of everyone present got drawn to the map.

The first one to comment was – well, whoever – Isabela. ‘I don’t want to be a spoilsport, sweetness, but I only see an obscure and rather smudged little dot; no skull with crossed bones, no black flag, no warning sign saying “Here be Dragons”. What’s so creepy about it?’

Hawke rested her elbow on the table and her cheek in her hand. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed, staring at the little mark that had been placed there by, and she had no doubt about that, her father. ‘It’s hard to explain; just a feeling of danger, or something strange or whatever. Hey, that I have a bad feeling about it, doesn’t say I know what it is!’

After a short silence Isabela hesitantly asked, ‘Then what do we do now?’

Hawke cocked an eyebrow and stared around the table, seeing everyone’s looks focused on her. It intrigued and angered her at the same time. ‘Why is everybody looking at me?’

‘In case you didn’t notice before, oh wonderful leader, we always leave the decisions to you. Less pressure on our shoulders, I suppose,’ Varric smiled sweetly. ‘And, of course, we can always blame you when things go wrong.’

‘O, that was the reason all the time; I thought you all relied upon my unfathomable wisdom,’ Hawke grumbled tetchily.

‘That too, of course,’ the dwarf said smoothly.

Hawke shook her head, hiding a smile. ‘Oh well, we don’t have to rush off and meet destiny immediately, what kind of destiny it will be. Darkspawn, dragons, slavers, Seekers or the end of the world as we know it. Instead we could go to Amaranthine and talk to that Grey Warden dwarf; who knows what we will learn. I definitely don’t want to stay here, acting like sitting ducks and waiting to be captured or attacked. I suggest we’ll give the Seekers and Tevinters as hard a time as possible to catch us.’

Zevran sniggered softly. ‘I believe we already did that, but I won’t protest against extending the amusing game somewhat longer.’

‘That’s my guy,’ Isabela beamed.

Wynne looked pensively. ‘I never wanted to involve the Queen in this, you know that Serah Hawke, but with this turn of events I think it’s wise to call upon her.

Hawke cocked her head. ‘Because ..?’

‘She has been the Warden Commander at Vigil’s Keep. And she has been the one who recruited Sigrun. She knows her. It could be useful to hear her out.’

‘But I thought you didn’t want her to know anything about our exiting adventure.’ Hawke wasn’t sure if she was willing to drag the Hero into this. For several reasons.

Wynne gave her a wan smile. ‘Things have changed, I believe.’

Zevran put lightly, and at the same time almost tenderly, a hand on Wynne’s wrist. ‘My delightful companion, I don’t think you have to have second thoughts about the commitment our former commander will show when you explain the problem.’

Wynne’s expression softened. ‘No, my dear elf, I’m quite certain I wouldn’t. I just didn’t want to burden her,’

Zevran leaned back. ‘That, my lovely Wynne, is the least of your concerns right now. And an Elissa Cousland who doesn’t want to be burdened isn’t heard off.’

Wynne laughed out loud and playfully tapped Zevran’s hand. ‘I suppose you’re right. I will go to the palace this very minute to ask for her counsel.’

‘And that would be a good thing ..?’ Hawke asked hesitantly.

‘Don’t doubt that, Serah Hawke. It seems you are going to meet the Queen of Ferelden after all,’ Wynne smiled. ‘I will be off to the palace by now.’ She stood up and left the small room, followed by the Seeker, who at that moment looked like a downcast chick, miserably following the mother duck.

‘Weeeel, Zevran, The Pearl, The Gnawed Noble or any other place ... it’s you choice now,’ Isabella tittered while she dragged her elf out off the Wonders of Thedas.

‘I think that leaves us,’ Varric said. He cast a sidelong glance at the tranquil mage but decided at the very moment he wouldn’t’ live to see the day he’d have fun with that guy. On the other hand, the two other persons left behind didn’t wear the expression of being the most pleasurable company at the moment either; especially the elf looked utterly strained. Varric decided to head for the Pearl himself to discover all the wonders of Denerim that establishment had to offer.

Fenris ushered Marian through the abandoned shop and said in a low voice, ‘We have to talk.’

‘Oh really, you too?’ she reacted lightly but then caught his glowering look that got emphasised by the firm grasp on her arm. ‘This is about Danarius, isn’t it,’ she sighed, knowing she couldn’t put this off any longer.

‘Yes.’

‘All right. Let’s retire to our room in the tavern and get this over with.’ She was certain he would start a rant because he was concerned about her and wanted to protect her. She was ready to oppose every word he’d be ready to utter to turn her into some kind of feeble victim, ready to be hauled to Tevinter or Orlais by all those bad men and/or women who were after her. And also after him, as she would make very clear the moment she had been able to make him listen to her. She wasn’t the only target, after all. Oh yes, she recognized she _was_ a target, but so was he, and, as she had understood well, so was Berran. If he was going to send her back to Kirkwall, he should be ready to put up one hell of a fight. She was _not_ that feeble victim, damn it. Danarius could drop dead.

-

And this was just one of the sentences the rant consisted of after they had reached their room. And screamed out at each other of the top of their voices.

‘Will you shut up, woman, and just hear me out!’

And that was only the start of the problems.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of turmoil ahead, I'm afraid. It had to happen at one point. Let's face it, their relation was almost too good to be true. It was about time they had a good fall out.
> 
> Note: the Leliana in this story is based upon the good old DAO, so please don't expect a calculating spymaster! (And, by the way, I always thought it strange Hawke and Leliana never had met in Lotharing, as their meeting in DAII suggests. Even more because Bethany and Leliana, apperently, did know each other, according to one of Bethany's remarks. A little sloppy, that one.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: turmoil all over the place.
> 
> Warning: there may be scenes of a somewhat angsty nature. Nothing too explicit.

Chapter 22

-

His head ached as if it had been attacked with a pickaxe. He hardly dared to open his eyes and when he did, a lance of pure fire hit him between his brows. He couldn’t help letting out a cry of agony. And immediately after that other parts of his body started to demand attention, his ribcage being the first in line. While he was struggling for breath after his involuntary cry, he realized that at least half of his ribs must have been broken or badly bruised; he didn’t know what was worse. Just drawing breath was sheer torture. And when he tried to move he found out his right shoulder had been dislocated; the joint had been rudely pushed back into the socket but it still hurt like hell. The fact that his hands were tied behind his back didn’t add much to lighten the tormenting throbbing. Another draw of breath toggled a new sharp arrow of pain. This time not only his ribs, but his whole abdomen screamed out in anguish. Someone – only one? – must have hit him fiercely, probably more than once. He became aware of other areas that now started to hurt. His lower back, for instance, felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Somebody had made a serious effort to break his left ankle – he didn’t know yet if they had succeeded – and he realized he couldn’t open his right eye properly. He tasted the metal-like tang of blood in his mouth. With great effort he managed to sit up, trying to ignore all kinds of pain attacking his body. _What the fuck had happened_?

After the white-hot ache in his head had subsided somewhat and he could see more or less clearly with one eye working properly, he got able to observe his location. Although there was little light, he could see he was apparently thrown in some kind of cage; the floor and three of the walls consisted of rough wood and from his position he could see the iron bars that separated him from the rest of the – what? Building? Then he felt his prison was gently moving, like it was rolling on soft waves. He must be on a ship, but he gathered the vessel was still anchored in the harbour; at open sea the undulation wouldn’t have been this calm. How in the Maker’s name had he got here? And perhaps more importantly: why?

Slowly he got aware of other details. He was stripped off his armour and left only in his smallclothes; he could feel the wood splinters biting in his naked skin. Not only his wrists but also his ankles were tied up. Not with iron shackles but with rope. And not just ordinary rope. Ordinary rope would not have been a problem. Even steel should have been easy to get rid of. But the moment he tried to faze through his bonds, he felt the magic they held. Whoever had taken him captive knew about his markings and what they made him capable of. Panic struck but almost at the same time he restrained himself. This didn’t mean he was taken by Tevinter slavers; that his markings were made of lyrium was quite obvious and not only Tevinters knew how to cope with that.

Tevinters. Danarius. Hadriana. At a snail's pace he shuffled backwards until he felt the wood of a wall pressing in his tormented back and carefully leant his head against it as far as his bonds afforded him, while recognition slowly entered his mind. He wished it didn’t. He groaned. His by now fast returning memory hurt more than his injuries did. He might as well have slapped her in her face or stabbed her with a knife. She had needed him, after all the things that had been said and naturally had upset her, but instead of giving her his support, all he had done was adding more weight to the load that already was thrown upon her shoulders. He had acted like a total moron, only driven by his own emotions, ignoring hers. He deserved this physical pain, though he still didn’t know who had inflicted it and why.

Of course it had all started with a big row.

-

After Marian and he had retreated into their room in the Gnawed Noble, he had begun to pace, desperately trying to come up with the right words to make her understand. Not only to make her see how grave the situation was, but also to let her comprehend the decision he had made to protect her as good as possible. It didn’t help his head was in a turmoil and all the words seemed to tumble over each other. Without saying anything she had sat down on the bed and watched him wearily, waiting for him to start talking.

Finally he had turned to face her.

‘I wanted us to come here, to Denerim I mean. Not only because of the obvious reason; just as you I wanted to learn about your past, wanted to know how you became the mage you are, the role your father played.’ He had been gesturing energetically; she had flinched at his words, he noticed almost clinically and at best absently, as if she was afraid there was more to that role than already had been revealed. He should have stopped his stupid monologue and asked her about that, but he hadn’t, fool he had been. He had been too full of his own fears, of his past and how that could affect her, to stop himself.

‘But there is more to it,’ he had continued.

‘I know this is about Danarius,’ she had said calmly but with a nervous tinge in her voice. At that point she hadn’t looked at him, only at her fingers that had been weaving and un-weaving constantly nervously, as at a will of their own. Another sign he had stupidly neglected. He realized now she hadn’t been nervous about his former master but about his behaviour. About what he was going to blurt out. She knew him well. She had spoken so softly she had been nearly audible. Within mere minutes after that her shy demeanour had turned from a scared girl into a seething virago and it was all his doing.

‘You have been avoiding talking about it, why I don’t know,’ he carried on. She had opened her mouth to react and he had raised his voice to prevent it. ‘But that is not the issue right now. I’m more concerned about the one he has sent this time,’ he had said; it had taken him quite an effort to pronounce the name. ‘His pet pupil Hadriana.’ With difficulty he had swallowed back the bile that had come up. ‘I’m certain of it. After the failure of his slavers and the deception of our Antivan assassin he has no other options left.’ The name of the witch alone had brought up cautiously shut away memories of being starved and whipped at a whim of a cruel mind. And perhaps even worst of all, the times she had used him, or rather his body for her own desires. Until the first time he had made love to Marian, he hadn’t even known what the expression meant; sex he was familiar with, a brutal and harsh connection of two bodies, only meant to lead to a cold and lonely orgasm – her orgasm most of the times. In more than one horrible way she had forced him to learn to please her. Love was a conception he had not known about until he had blundered into it, to his own amazement and – to be honest – fright. Perhaps that realisation was the reason he had finally given in to his slumbering fear that he had been living in some kind of dream, a dream of real love that couldn’t be true. At some point Marian had won his heart and trust but at any time she could throw it away. They were dancing on a dangerously thin line and he got the feeling she wasn’t even aware of it. Perhaps he must be the one to crush that dream before it would bring them both down. It was an illusion, just as the months living in freedom with the Fog Warriors had been a warm and wonderful illusion that had been cruelly and utterly shattered.

At the same time he was desperately clinging onto this hitherto unknown and delightful feeling and he would do anything to preserve and defend it – and her. Hence his decision. These were such conflicting emotions that he was not able to comprehend it. Let alone that _she_ could grasp the meaning of it all, since he never had been able to explain. His words had been drowned in anger, anger about his inability to express himself properly; he hadn’t even tried to sound reasonable. He groaned again. He should have listened to her, he should have looked at her, at the desperate glance in her eyes, the deep love that lay there, love for him. Of course he had seen it, but sullenly had taken no notice of it. At that moment he wasn’t able – or willing – to recognise her feelings for him, not with the remembrance of Hadriana so close by.

And now it was too late, now he had lost her. Due to his own stupidity. His stubbornness. The moment the possibility – no, the _certainty_ – Danarius’s pet pupil was hunting her had entered his mind, he hadn’t been able to think clearly any longer. He had let his fear and panic get the better of him. Had allowed the dark memories to wash over him and take away all the good ones he had of Marian and their time together. With all the awful consequences. He cried out once more. Out of frustration this time.

-

‘You _what_?!’ she screamed.

Sharply he turned to her. ‘I’m sure you heard me well. I think we ought to split up. I will go after Hadriana...

‘You’re leaving me –‘

‘No! I’m not leaving you! I’m protecting you –‘

‘By leaving me – ‘

‘Will you shut up, woman and just hear me out!’

She closed her eyes and smothered a string of curses at the same time as some serious sobs. She buried her face in her hands to prevent herself from more screaming, or, worse, from attacking him. She bit her thumb till it bled to silence herself. But it didn’t help. She wanted to stop herself but couldn’t. The words flew out of her mouth as at a will of their own.

‘I knew this day would come,’ she uttered hoarsely. ‘Or better, I feared for it. Oh bloody hell, I should have known better. This has little to nothing to do with you wanting to protect me, don’t give me that bullshit. This is all about your past. Of course sooner or later it would haul you back in that black pit that lingers behind the walls in your head. I _knew_ there would come a moment that you would flee from me, although I hoped not and I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t come to this. Too much strings attached you can’t get rid of, you don’t even _try_ to get rid of. You, you _coward_!’ That last word was said with such a heartbreaking emphasis it literally hurt him. He wasn’t willing to accept it although deep inside him he knew it was true.

_Maker, Dalish Gods. The Stone. Whatever religion was paying attention. Probably none and it didn’t matter anyway. How her words stung. And how he wanted to deny them, wanted only to be the hero, to save her. Well, he greatly succeeded in that, didn’t he, tied up and battered as he was now_.

‘Who the fuck is this Hadriana anyway that she is so important that she drives you away from me?’ she went on, weeping at that time.

_Damned, he should have heeded that remark, her tears and the whole package of body-language that came with it. But no, he had just brainlessly ranted on_.

‘She’s Danarius apprentice, the one that tormented me even more than he did. She was the one who decided whether I could have a proper meal or not, the one who gave me punishment every time she felt like it, the one who demanded –‘ At that moment he had, at least, cut off the rest of that sentence; to be honest only because he didn’t want to hear the words spoken out loud. But of course she instantly understood.

‘So that’s the reason why you’ve never talked about her before,’ Marian bit hotly. ‘And that makes her more important than me? Your remembrance of her fucking you or the other way around overshadows all we had together? Drowns the worth of our relationship?’

At that very moment the little verb “had” didn’t even hit home.

_And, of course, how he should had interfered there to drag her into his arms and pledge his everlasting love to her, whether she had believed it or not; he should at least have tried. He probably should have proposed to her at that very moment, though it was more likely she would have broken his nose than say yes. On the other hand, after the broken nose and a load of regrets and apologies on his behalf, and hopefully hers, she would have kissed him and declared herself his for eternity. But, idiot as he had been, he had never done that_.

‘Don’t you think it’s time to put your past behind you and finally recognise you have a future?’

Again he cringed at the memory of that straightforward remark.

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ he had spat back and at the same time realized what a stupid answer it was, considering the ordeals she had suffered. But that was a one-time occasion, he had thought doggedly. No matter how awful it had been, she hadn’t had to undergo the years of torture he had gone through. What did she know about having been denied meals and well earned sleep and being forced to acts he didn’t even want to think about?

I want her dead,’ he had yelled, ‘and even better, I want to be the one who kills her. But that’s not the matter at this moment, fasta vass. She’s after you, right now she’s chasing you, godsdamned. And I’m going to prevent that. Whether you like it or not, whether you believe it or not. I know her ways, how she thinks, how she will react, where she will be to strike at the right time. I will find her and kill her before she will do you harm.’ He roared these last words but he didn’t impress her. And, of course, his marking had lit up but she even hadn’t bothered with commenting on it.

She had clenched her fists and her face had turned into a nasty mask of anger. ‘Then go,’ she had hissed, ‘leave me and run into her claws. I don’t doubt for one second she’s ready for you. Fuck her again if you think that will save me, or fight her. Or writhe as she pleases. You, at any rate, will probably never get rid of her, as you won’t get rid of your past, with that stupid rigid attitude of yours. So flee to her. I don’t need you anyhow. I have proper friends. Friends who stay with me, whatever the cause.’

He wanted so hard Marian to understand his fears. He was so certain Hadriana wanted to wipe him out by harming the one she thought was his weakness. Yes, his weakness: his love for this woman. She wanted to kill her or, even worse, to let her suffer before killing her and force him to watch. And to prevent that from happening he had to find the witch, provoke her. To kill her if that was possible and if not ... be killed himself if that would save her... After all, he couldn’t imagine his life going on without her.

If only he had been able to tell her that... Instead he got caught up in her fury and his frustration, in her misunderstanding and his own powerless anger. She waited for a reply that never came.

‘All right. If you want it that badly, go look for her. Fuck her, kill her if you can. Grovel and writhe like a worm on a hook. I don’t care! Ha, handle me as the feeble little girl as you apparently see me. I don’t care if it makes you feel better! If you loved me, really loved me, you would stay at my side without a thought of her and her threats! Go away and go rush to meet your never-ending past. Just, just go away, fuck you!!’

And he had. He had run out of their room, had run out of the tavern. He had hardly been aware of the eyes following him.

And, oh yes, her words hurt. Because they were true. He never should have run off; his intentions were true, he really wanted to save her from Hadriana. But they should have faced her together. And now he was here onboard some ship, held captive by persons who perhaps weren’t slavers but knew his value nevertheless, and he was further of protecting her than ever before.

And then a new insight hit him. Hadriana would never kill Marian. Danarius wanted her alive and his apprentice wouldn’t dare to go against his order, even if it meant she had to deny herself her own pleasure.

Yes, a stupid, dim-witted fool he had been.

-

Varric and Berran sat in the tap-room of the Gnawed Noble, brotherly sharing a pitcher of well-earned ale. Wynne had gone to the palace to speak with the Queen but she had hoped to return before supper. Suddenly they heard the raised voices of Hawke and Fenris, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. Shortly after that they saw the Tevinter elf darting out of the establishment with a face like a thunderstorm and his markings flashing like the matching lightning. At the same time the noise of something breakable getting seriously crashed against the wood of the bedroom door rang out. The two males shared a worried look.

‘Is this common behaviour between those two?’ Berran cautiously informed.

With concern in his eyes Varric stared at the heavy wooden door the elf had slammed shut behind his back. ‘They have their petty quarrels, like any other couple, but as far as I know there usually is no storming off and breaking of objects involved. At least not since that one time.’(Both Hawke and Fenris would have been shocked to learn that Varric knew about the Wine Bottle Incident but they shouldn’t have; after all, there was little the dwarf didn’t know.) ‘This looks seriously; maybe I should go investigate ...’ he offered hesitantly, not radiating much enthusiasm.

‘Perhaps you should,’ the Seeker carefully agreed, ‘you know her best.’

The dwarf found her sitting on the double bed, leaning against the backboard. Her face was wet with tears but she wasn’t crying right now; she was wearing an expression somewhere between desperation and immense rage.

‘Err, Hawke? Care to tell what’s going on?’

‘He left me. He bloody left me! He said he loved me and I believed him but what man would leave his lover at her hour of need?! He just ran off!’

Varric frowned. While he moved towards the bed, he cautiously avoided to tread on the shards from what might have been a vase moments ago but now lay scattered on the floor in irreparable pitiful fragments. He sat down next to her. ‘You make it sound as if you chased him away by bluntly telling him you’re unexpectedly expecting,’ he said, in a faint attempt at humour. ‘By the way, that isn’t the case, is it?’

She sat straight with the speed of a viper and pointed a furious finger at him. Her eyes spat fire. ‘Don’t you dare making light of this!’ she screeched.

Automatically Varric backed away a few inches. Humour, apparently, wasn’t the right approach. ‘Madam, I wouldn’t dare. But would you please be so good as to clarify what exactly happened?’

Hawke slumped back again and shut her eyes. She took a deep breath and in fits and starts she told Varric what had transpired.

The dwarf frowned. ‘Then we must make haste to find him and drag him back in here.’

‘I don’t want him back,’ she hissed harshly.

‘Yes, Hawke, you do,’ said Varric in a reasonable voice that, on the whole, brooked no counter-attack. ‘You know as well as I do that he has gone off on a suicide mission and, frankly, at this very moment I don’t care a rat’s ass for the reason why. You may be angry right now but you don’t want him dead. As far as I understand he’s out of his mind because of that bitch Hadriana and you because of, well, more or less because of everything that has happened and has been said today. None of you are capable of thinking logically. So, you stay here in the loving care of our suddenly turned cuddly Seeker, while I go and organize a search party. There’s a good girl.’

‘Don’t patronize me!’ But the sting was out of her anger.

‘If I don’t, who would? Come, calm down and get yourself a pint. Leave it all to me. Just promise me you won’t destroy any more of the inn’s property; it could ruin our reputation of decent Kirkwall citizens.’

He managed to conjure a bleak smile on her face and she trailed after him to the tap-room. She let herself down on the bench opposite from the one Berran was seated on and shot him a look that said, ‘Not a word. Not. One. Word.’

The Seeker was wise enough to heed that warning and silently filled a mug with ale and pushed it in her direction. Varric had already taken his leave.

-

Fenris shifted a little and gritted his teeth against several bolts of pain surging through his body. He desperately tried to remember what had brought him in this dire situation. He could recall he had started his search for Hadriana by going to the harbour to look for information about ships that had recently docked, specifically ships from Tevinter. He had questioned the dockworkers and deckhands that hung around on the quays, but after a fruitless hour of investigating he was to his disappointment none the wiser. Finally he had turned to the harbourmaster, an elderly man who was friendly enough to hear him out, although he was terribly busy.

‘No Tevinter ship has been so bold as to try to dock in Denerim after what the slavers have done to the elves in the Alienage during the Blight,’ he told him. He had tilted his head and looked inquisitively at him. ‘I take it you know all about that, Messere?’

‘An acquaintance mentioned it,’ Fenris vaguely had said, not very interested in the story at that moment. ‘I understand they caused a lot of grief and damage.’

‘You could say that again.’ The harbourmaster looked him up and down once more. ‘You seem like a strong and capable warrior. Are you perchance a slaver-hunter?’

Fenris cocked one of his brows. Slave hunters he was familiar with, more than he cared for as a matter of fact, but _slaver_ hunters..? ‘What do you mean?’

The harbourmaster chuckled. ‘I heard a group of hot-headed youngsters from the Alienage organized themselves even before the Blight was over to go after every Tevinter they could put their hands upon. Revenge, you see. I thought you might be their captain.’

‘Do I look like the average Alienage dweller to you?’ Fenris wanted to snarl but at the last moment he succeeded in changing his tone into something that almost sounded amiable. The man didn’t deserve his bad temper.

‘I must admit you don’t and I would like to talk about it a spell longer but, alas, I lack the time. So, to return to the subject of the Tevinter ships: I’m positive there hasn’t been one here for over a year but it is always possible the bastards use other ships and come here in disguise. They don’t have _Tevinter slavers_ tattooed on their forehead, have they? Perhaps you could ask around in the inns in the harbour district. There are always people around who’re willing to change information for coin or even a drink. And if everything else fails, you can travel to Amaranthine. It could well be they still let Tevinter ships dock over there.’

He had thanked the man and decided to follow his advice to visit some taverns. He hadn’t been wandering for more than a few minutes through the narrow alleys winding between the tumbledown shacks, when he realized he was being followed. He had disappeared around a corner, hiding in the dusky shadows, and drew his dagger; wielding his broadsword in this place would have been madness. Five heartbeats later, a hooded figure appeared in his field of vision, moving cautiously but not cautiously enough. Fenris pounced upon him, twisted the figure’s arms behind its back, held their wrists with one hand and put the dagger to their throat. A male voice squeaked with pain and surprise and Fenris got hit by a wave of stale sweat and garlic.

‘You have a choice,’ he hissed maliciously, ‘I can slit your throat, tear your heart out off your chest, shred you to pieces, or you tell me this instant why you are stalking me.’

‘Please, Messere, don’t kill me,’ the voice wheezed, sounding terrified, ‘I mean you no harm!’

‘Then talk,’ Fenris snarled.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the harbourmaster –‘

‘I said _talk.’_ And he solidified his hold, which caused a new scared squeak.

‘I will, I will. I think I have some good information for you.’ The man swallowed when the sharp point of the dagger pushed harder into his skin, almost drawing blood. ‘But can’t we discuss that over a pint of ale? That’s much more comfortable,’ he pleaded desperately.

Fenris contemplated this for a moment. ‘Alright. But don’t try anything stupid.’

No. The only one being stupid had been he himself, he mused wryly. He remembered entering a shabby tavern, sitting down in a corner and taking a sip of liquid that tasted even worse than the stuff that passed for ale in the Hanged Man. After that, everything had become a blur. He was quite certain he hadn’t passed out because of the bad quality of his drink; someone must have put something in it. But why? The words of the harbourmaster about Tevinters in disguise came up in his mind and his heart grew cold. But if his captors were really Tevinters, why would they leave him in this state? To teach him a lesson probably. And why hadn’t Hadriana shown herself to gloat upon his misery and idiocy? Was she even here? Was it possible Danarius’s slavers and apprentice were already in Denerim? No, it wasn’t. They couldn’t have known ... They couldn’t have travelled that fast ... Or was there some kind of magic..?

He realized his thoughts became incoherent. He shifted again and tried not to cry out in anguish; every movement, every intake of breath was a tormenting struggle. His head was pounding, his ankle was throbbing, and his shoulder and ribcage seemed to be on fire. In fact his whole body seemed to be on fire. But worse than his physical suffering was the painful memory of Marian’s face when he told her he would go after Hadriana without her. The accusation of treachery in her beautiful sapphire eyes, the mixture of fury, anxiety and intense heartache. And he had done that to her. The moment the name Hadriana had popped up, he hadn’t been able to think and act as a normal rational being anymore. He had started to rave like a harebrained idiot and his thoughts had been spinning like he was delirious. Why did that witch still hold such a fast grip on him? No, he did that to himself, Marian was right. It was easier to avoid or even submit to his past than to fight against it. He _was_ a coward. He had only himself to blame and not Danarius, or even Hadriana, that the dream had turned into a nightmare. A light sob escaped him and he cringed.

Just before he lost his consciousness again, he thought for a moment he could smell her scent of rosemary but he knew it was a delusion. He would die here or be hauled to Tevinter and he would never see her again.

-

Varric hurried as fast as his short legs could carry him to the Pearl. After he had entered the brothel, somewhat out of breath, he noticed to his relief that Isabela and Zevran were seated on a comfortable sofa instead of being occupied with other more complicated activities. They were drinking something golden coloured that looked quite expensive out of sparkling crystal glasses that looked quite expensive as well.

‘Varric!’ Isabela happily exclaimed. ‘What a surprise! Come sit down and share a remarkable good glass of whisky with us!’

‘No time,’ the dwarf retorted slightly out of breath, and added rather cryptically, ‘I have to be back at the Gnawed Noble before Hawke’s calmness wears off and she starts demolishing the tavern belongings once more. Berran won’t be able to hold her back.’

‘You may as well sit and have a drink while you explain, my friend,’ Zevran said with a little frown. ‘You look like you could use one. You come with bad news, I assume..?’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Varric grunted, plopping down in soft cushions. ‘After a terrible fight with our dear leader Fenris has disappeared; Hawke got a fit and began throwing with things. At least one piece of pottery has given its life already and I fear more will follow, once she starts raging again. And that is just the good part of the story.’

‘Eh, Varric ...’

‘Yes Rivaini, I will come to the point.’ He took a sip of the indeed heavenly whisky and told what had happened concise and unadorned, which was so unlike him that it greatly accentuated the gravity of the situation.

After he had finished, Zevran pensively tapped his lower lip with his finger and said, ‘This is definitely a very serious case. Luckily I have a few contacts in this city I can call upon. They know the ins and outs of the place and one of them in particular owes me a major favour.’

‘That was what I was hoping for,’ Varric grumbled a little relieved.

The Antivan elf determinedly stood up. ‘Come, my lovely pirate, we have work to do that cannot wait.’

‘When we find that Tevinter idiot, I’ll tell him a thing or two about the sins of spoiling what promised to be a perfect evening,’ Isabela groused but she followed Zevran without hesitation.

Varric returned to the Gnawed Noble, hoping with all his might the Antivan assassin would be successful, preferably on a very short notice, i.e. before Fenris had turned into a corpse and Hawke into a seething ogre.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know ... poor Fenris ... I hate to make him suffer. But Zevran is on the case, so there's still hope.
> 
> As always: thank you so much for reading. And thanks for all the comments and kudos! You guys so often make my day!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else thought Hawke was acting like an outright twat in the last chapter? I mean, how she treated Fenris? Well, she does so herself, and, oh, how she's sorry!
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 23

-

Hawke was nursing the pint of ale Berran had poured her. She was deep in thought, endlessly reflecting on the – conversation between her and Fenris. She smiled wryly. Conversation, yeah right. Nothing but a nice euphemism for an ordinary slanging match. No, not just any slanging match. She took a shivering breath. A simple argument, regarless how violently, would have been easier to cope with. They had been desperately trying to convince the other one to see their point of view. That was nothing new of course, usually that was the purpose of having an argument. But this one had been different. Bit by bit it got through to her that Fenris had tried to make her understand how dangerous this Hadriana was. Had she really been listening? Hell no. She had stopped heeding attention to whatever he was saying after his declaration he wanted to go after that woman by himself, and had, thick as a brick, jumped into her own conclusions. At this very moment she got aware of a horrifying sensation like a frosty hand closing around her heart. Again it drove the air out of her lungs but now for a different reason. He had stated he wanted to save her and she had screamed back the most terrible hurtful things. Above all she had called him a coward. She cringed at the memory of her own words. He had been willing to throw himself into danger at her benefit and she had called him a coward. Because she’d assumed he didn’t want to fight his past any longer and just gave in at the very moment an old feared name turned up. He had been willing to _plunge_ into that very past to keep her alive and she had called him a coward. She felt horrible.

Her thoughts trailed along the path of how she had behaved after she and Carver had found the dead body of that first Seeker; or more precisely, since the moment they discovered that rotten pendant. She saw a pattern. She had been driven by fear and panic ever since and it had got worse after her father and the essence of her magic became involved. And Fenris – yes he and only he – had been the one who had held her together. Who had endured her fits and outbursts because she had been making a habit out of losing herself. And the moment he got caught by his past and understandably was torn apart by it, she, instead of being supportive, turned against him and called him a _coward_. The word kept echoing in her head.

Hadn’t she been the one who said she was afraid to drive him away by saying something stupid? What a brilliant prophecy that turned out to be. She laid her arms upon the table and rested her head on top of them, swallowing back tears of remorse and guilt. Oh Maker, what an utmost self-centred twit she had been. Berran watched her with care and almost flinched when she suddenly sat straight.

‘I’m a thoroughbred bitch, aren’t I,’ she said with a grim look in her eyes. He was so taken aback he didn’t know how to react, let alone what to say. He just looked at her, sitting still as a statue, afraid to do something that would make her go off. She smiled thinly. ‘I know you agree but are too scared of how I might respond to admit it.’ She snorted sarcastically. ‘And that only proves it.’

‘I’m not quite certain what you’re hinting at,’ he said warily.

Hawke sighed and suddenly looked very sad. Absentmindedly she drew small circles in a little puddle of spilled ale with her index finger. ‘Of course you don’t,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve always been the sarcastic and impulsive kind but very rarely changed into a hysterical frenzied bronto. It’s a nasty habit I developed since, well since ...’

‘Since you met me,’ the Seeker completed her sentence.

Hawke looked up. ‘I _meant_ to say, since this whole mess started. And yes, you’re part of it.’ She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘But I don’t blame you. I only have myself to blame.' With a grim glint in her eyes she added, 'You're not the only one who's carrying such a weighty responsibility around.' The glint disappeared and her shoulders drooped. 'And now I’ve chased away the only one who ...’ She bit her lip and grunted loudly out of frustration. She wanted to bang her head on the table but perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea. It would only emphasize the hysterical frenzied bronto part.

‘You didn’t chase him away Hawke,’ Varric’s baritone sounded all of the sudden behind her. ‘I told you before neither of you two were able to reason in a normal way or to reason at all. He just acted without using his brain.’

She twirled to face the dwarf. ‘Did you find him?’ The high expectation drowned immediately in disappointment when she saw he was alone.

Varric sat down next to her. ‘No, but I put the one person on his tail who is able to. Zevran is looking for him. He knows this city far better than we do and he has his contacts.’ He waved to the bartender to order more ale. The man – what was his bloody name again? – was quick enough to comply with his request but tarried unnecessary long while putting a pitcher and fresh mugs on the table and taking the used ones away. He even made a show of cleaning the table with a ragged cloth. The dwarf frowned; he found it strange if not somewhat suspicious behaviour and decided to keep an eye on the fellow.

‘Who says Fenris is still in Denerim?’ Hawke objected in the meantime. ‘He might be on his way to Amaranthine or has taken a ship –‘

Varric put a pressing hand on Hawke’s arm as a warning to prevent her from talking until the bartender had again taken his position behind the counter.

‘What is it?’ Hawke asked a little irritably.

‘Call it my dwarven instinct or my sound merchant’s distrust, but something tells me we have to be careful with that bugger around. I get the feeling he seems too eager to eavesdrop.’

‘In my experience all bartenders are curious,’ Hawke muttered. ‘They like to gossip like old fishwives to keep you around long enough to sell you another drink. It’s part of the business tactic, I suppose.’

‘You may be right but it doesn’t hurt to stay alert. And above all, we don’t want him to blether around to all the patrons about our affairs. You never know who will get funny ideas. To answer your remark, I can’t imagine our elf has found a ship to take him out of Denerim on this short notice. And where to? Back to Kirkwall? To what avail? And even in his current state of mind I can’t imagine him rushing to Tevinter, which would be the stupidest thing to do. As far as I comprehend your, er, report, he thinks this Hadriana woman is on her way to Denerim and I’m convinced he wants to try to intercept her on Fereldan soil.’

Hawke wasn’t convinced. ‘And who says she isn’t travelling by sea?’

 ‘If that’s the case it would be useless to take a ship unless he intends to hire or steal a galleon to start a sea battle. Even you must recognize that’s highly unlikely. It could well be he began his investigation here in Denerim but even if he has left the city, Zevran will find out and pursue him without further ado. Don’t doubt that.’ He wasn’t at all certain about what would happen if the Antivan assassin succeeded in his mission; he had no idea how he would manage to drag a mighty upset and determined Fenris back to the Gnawed Noble without being run through with a sword or a fist, but he was wise enough not to say that out loud.

Hawke let out a deep, shivering sigh. ‘This mess is all but my fault,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Stop beating yourself up over this, Hawke.’

‘If it weren’t for me he wouldn’t have run off,’ she protested. ‘If I had been listening to him, instead of shouting and calling him names, I could have persuaded him to stay.’

‘I highly doubt that. Not able to reason, remember?’

‘I called him a coward, Varric. A _coward_!’ The longer she contemplated this, the more wretched she felt. Then she huffed and pursed her lips. _Get yourself together. You will achieve nothing with wailing and whining. It’s time you give yourself a good whack around the ears and stop feeling sorry for yourself._

Varric realized that the angry woman he’d left behind, had in his absence turned into a by guilt ridden pool of misery. That kind of thing happened too often of late. He thought back at the days she could wield her anger as a well honed dagger but at the same time would shower witty comments around, or burst out laughing the next moment. She still did that now and again, but he feared she was sliding down towards depression and desperation. He cast a veiled poisonous glance at the Seeker and wished the man had never turned up to make everything difficult and complicated.

‘I’m sure he didn’t take it personally,’ he said lamely.

Before she could react Berran intervened. ‘Would someone finally tell me what happened? Besides the obvious heated argument, I mean.’

Varric cocked an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Hawke didn’t tell you?’

‘No.’

‘And you didn’t ask?’

Berran shrugged. ‘It didn’t seem very safe to do so.’

‘Ah. Of course. Because after your uninvited appearance and all the consequences of your fiery ambition, our leader is changing into a dangerous marbari that would tear your throat out at uttering a wrong word.’ At this point the poisonous look turned into murderous icicles.

‘I sooner thought about a bronto,’ Hawke commented, sounding unperturbed. ‘A hysterical and frenzied one to be precisely. Although, I must admit the image of a marbari sounds more appealing; after all they defend the ones they care for to their last gasp. And never call them a coward,’ she added sourly. “What?’ she asked when she saw the astonished glares of Varric and Berran. ‘I decided to change my demeanour back to normal, _my_ normal that is, before I definitely turn in some kind of blubbering waif. Something wrong with that?’

‘Not at all,’ Varric hastened to say, ‘I applaud it. By the way, Hawke, maybe a marbari doesn’t _tell_ you you’re a coward, but you don’t know if it doesn’t _think_ it, do you.’

Hawke looked intensely at him. ‘This was a test, I presume?’

‘You could call it that.’ The dwarf shot her a radiant smile.

‘I see. Don’t push your luck. You’d better make yourself useful and update our gloomy brother in arms over there before he combusts with curiosity.’

 -

He was floating in and out of consciousness and every time it was harder to hold on. The at first clear sounds of creaking wood and sloshing water had little by little faded into a muffled drone as if they by now tried to penetrate his ears through a thick layer of cotton wool. His breath went shallow and rattled. Breathing in general had become an exhausting battle; not only because of the excruciating pain it caused, but it also seemed he just wasn’t able to take in enough air to fill his lungs. He coughed up blood and almost choked. It kindled a new sharp pain behind his ribs that overruled the throbbing agony in his shoulders and abdomen but he was too weak to moan. He hadn’t been able to keep sitting up and was now lying on his side, gasping superficially with little profit. His head was spinning as if he’d been drinking too much wine and he felt nauseous. He had completely lost track of time and couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. There had been little light to start with but he didn’t know whether it had been cast by a clouded sun, a bright moon or perhaps a torch. He wasn’t able to open his eyes anymore. He just lay, breathing laboriously, too shattered to move or even think. 

One time he thought he heard voices.

‘You idiot, why didn’t you warn me earlier?!’

‘He looked like a tough one; I thought he would heal soon enough of his own accord. Besides, his injuries didn’t seem that grave.’

_Strange accent, heard it before, don’t remember ..._

‘Yes, I can see that.’ The first voice sounded mordantly. ‘Now go and fetch a healer.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t care! Ask around! There must be someone of use in this blasted city! But hurry. I don’t want him dead, he’s too valuable.’

The voice might have sounded worried, the owner, however, hadn’t bothered to relieve him from his bounds. 

He drifted off again; he felt so immensely tired. Slowly the pain started to subdue and he was grateful for it. First it felt like he was wrapped in soft velvet; after that his body gradually went numb. He knew what it meant. Life was seeping out of him but he had no longer the strength to fight. The vision of Marian’s lovely face appeared behind his closed eyes, vivid as if she was sitting next to him. She smiled at him and told him she loved him. He smiled back at her and whispered the same tender words. He saw the brightness of her sapphire eyes, the softness of her lips, the golden daylight on her honey-coloured cascading hair; he could even imagine her fingers traced through his hair and caressed his face with an infinite gentle, warm touch.

And then the black oblivion of the Void closed him in.

-

‘Serah Hawke, you really have to eat something. You’re helping no one, and Fenris in the least, if you faint from lack of food,’ Wynne said in a reasonable, or – far worse – rather motherly tone that drove Hawke totally bonkers. She tried not to pay attention. Listlessly she moved the food on her plate around with her fork and poked at a piece of celery as if the vegetable had offended her.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she grumbled.

‘Of course not, Hawke, sick of worry as you are. As we all are,’ Varric said, stuffing a large piece of pork in his mouth and washing it down with a generous swill from his mug.

‘So I see,’ she said tetchily.

Wynne had returned not long before with the message that the Queen would visit them the next day. Apparently Elissa Cousland had been all too eager to take the opportunity to flee the palace for a few hours, if only to have a legitimate reason to drink a pint in the Gnawed Noble while giving information about the dwarven Grey Warden Sigrun. And to forget about the duties of dealing with a troublesome country for a spell. 

The First Enchanter had affirmed Varric’s trust in Zevran about finding Fenris. ‘If there’s anyone who can succeed, it is him,’ she had said. ‘He is highly skilled, cunning and knows everyone worth knowing.’

But Hawke was neither blind nor deaf. She had seen the dark glint of anxiety in Wynne’s eyes and the small twitch at the corner of her mouth; she had heard the tiny tremble in her voice and above all the “if”. She didn’t want “if”. She wanted assurance but knew damn well she wouldn’t get it. She had no other choice than to wait and hope it would turn out well. She hated it.

‘Come on Hawke, just one little bite. Just for me,’ Varric pleaded.

‘Yes, and we all know where that leads to,’ Hawke gruffly retorted. ‘A little bite for Mummy, a little bite for Daddy, a little bite for goodwife Amalia with the nice kitty cat ...’ She threw the dwarf a devilish glance. ‘A little bite for Aunty Aveline and one for the funny Uncle Varric with his creepy fetish for sharp mistresses ...’

Wynne burst out laughing and even Berran couldn’t stifle a snigger.

‘Anything to help you empty your plate,’ Varric responded straight-faced. ‘If we’re forced to pull your elf out off a fray and you half-way keel over because of lack of nutriment, I don’t want to be the one to explain why afterwards.’

Hawke skewered a piece of meat and stuck it into her mouth. She chewed industriously and swallowed ostentatiously. ‘There. Satisfied?’

‘Anything to keep you from collapsing,’ Varric replied with a honeyed smile. ‘I do hope you remember I’m not only in the possession of a sharp mistress but also a sharp pen ...? What would people say when they find out their favourite heroine wasn’t able to act adequately because she refused to eat?’

‘Write what you will,’ Hawke said, defiantly sticking out her chin, ‘I don’t care. You can write, I can spread nasty rumours around.’

‘I wager I can beat you at that,’ Varric beamed.

-

A few hours later she was agitatedly walking back and forth in the tap-room, completely at the end of her tether. At that time they were the only ones left. The other guests and the bartender had gone to their beds, and even Edwina had retreated to her room. With a little smile she’d said she trusted the First Enchanter to restrain her companions from raiding her liquor stock. The only people still awake besides them were two night guards but they had for the time being discretely withdrawn in an adjacent room.

‘What the hell is taking that blasted elf so long,’ Hawke cried out in impotent despair. She turned vehemently to Varric. ‘You said Zevran would find him!’

The dwarf raised his hands in defence. ‘I said he was the best man for the job. And, by Andraste’s burning bloomers, stop pacing like you’re waiting for your next of kin to give birth!’

‘That’s it,’ Hawke hissed and headed for the door, ‘if you want anything done right, do it yourself. I’m going after him and don’t try to stop me!’

She was halted by Berran’s pressing sounding voice. ‘Serah Hawke!’

She spun on her heels. ‘What?’ she spat. And then she saw him holding the squirming bartender in the scruff of his neck and pushing him forwards. ‘I think this little piece of lowlife has to tell you something.’

‘Please don’t kill me,’ the bartender squeaked, ‘I only wanted to make some money! I didn’t mean any harm!’ Within a heartbeat she was onto him. Berran still had him in a firm grip but Hawke took his tunic in a concrete grasp and pulled him close to put her fire spitting eyes at level. The man tried to recoil but in the solid hold of both the Seeker and an infuriated Hawke he pathetically failed.

‘What have you done,’ Hawke snarled and her hoarse voice promised lots of pain. She took in the in mortal fear twisted face of the man and a sudden insight struck her. ‘No, let me guess, your money comes from Tevinter, doesn’t it, you miserable excuse for a human being.’ Her raised fist got caught by Varric.

‘Let him speak,’ the dwarf said and his cool voice was as a balm on her heated fury. She breathed deeply and let loose of the fabric. She took a step backwards.

‘You have him?’ she asked Berran without taking her eyes off the wriggling man. The Seeker wrenched the bartender’s wrists with his free hand behind the man’s back in another steel grip and nodded. The bartender squealed louder. Hawke turned to Varric. ‘He’s all yours,’ she growled. ‘Don’t spare the worm.’

Wynne moved to stand next to her and laid her hand on her arm.

The dwarf started with a long foreboding silence, pregnant with the promise of very dangerous and bleak events. It made the captive’s knees buckle and widdle himself.

‘What’s your name?’ Varric finally decided to ask. At that point the bartender had to cope with a strong hand still holding his neck like a vice, a pair of arms almost ripped out of their sockets, an enraged woman who, by the look on her face, very much wanted to disembowel him and only got held back by another – seemingly elderly but nevertheless very dangerous looking woman, and a dwarf who eyed him in such a neutral way it could only mean death. The in itself innocent question hit home like a tactical placed fist in the stomach. He widdled some more.

‘Doryl,’ he wheezed.

‘I caught him while he was trying to sneak out of the backdoor,’ Berran explained. ‘Call me paranoid but as a Seeker I could smell he was up to nothing good.’

Varric didn’t answer the Seeker, he just kept his eyes fixed on the squirming bartender. ‘Well, Doryl, care to tell us what you were planning to do or, more importantly, who you were going to pay a visit?’

‘Please Messere! I don’t know anything! I was only paid to inform Elsy at the palace kitchens about a strange looking elf!’ the man cried out. Berran changed his grip on the powerless wrists and the bartender screamed in agony. Hawke could swear she heard the crack of a breaking bone but at this moment she couldn’t care less. Her whole body went taut and if it hadn’t been for Wynne who held her arm in a surprisingly strong grip for a woman her age, she would have pounced upon the bartender to tear him to pieces.

‘I kill him,’ she panted, struggling against Wynne’s grasp, ‘I fucking kill him!’

‘No, Serah Hawke, don’t interfere,’ the First Enchanter said with a maddening calm voice. ‘Let the dwarf and the Seeker do their job.’ She let her eyes linger on the latter. ‘Although I really wished you wouldn’t take such extreme measures, Berran. I don’t think that’s necessary.’

Berran’s grumbled answer didn’t promise anything.

‘And who told you about the “strange looking elf”’ Varric continued, still in that deadly flat tone.

‘I ... I can’t ...’ Another crack and a new agonized scream. ‘Alright, alright! Elsy is a Tevinter spy! She told me about the elf!’ At this point tears were streaming down Doryl’s face. ‘She pays me to give information about any patron of interest and about the slaver hunters.’

Varric wrinkled his brow. ‘The what?’

‘The slaver hunters,’ Doryl screeched, ‘the young elves at the Alienage who go after Tevinter slavers. I thought the tattooed elf had something to do with that. I heard your conversation about the elf being missing and I thought Elsy would want to know that. I just wanted to earn some coin,’ he ended, sobbing.

Varric grinned mirthlessly. ‘Perhaps next time you should reconsider your choice of employer. Does the name Danarius trigger a memory? Or Hadriana?’

‘Yes! Yes!’ Doryl bawled. ‘Danarius, I remember that name! Elsy works for him! She told me once. Will you let me go now?!’

Varric looked as if he contemplated the request. ‘No,’ he stated coldly after some moments. ‘Tell me about this Elsy.’

‘She, she is a baker,’ Doryl snivelled; by now he had turned into the personification of misery. ‘She works at the palace but she was born in Tevinter.’

‘And why would she be interested in some upstart elven youth?’

‘I don’t know!’ the bartender wailed. ‘I only know she’s paid by a Tevinter Magister called Danarius. A few years ago she said I should report when I saw an elf with white marks. She said he was a runaway slave and worth a lot of money.’ He looked pleadingly at the dwarf but only received a cold look back.

Hawke was reminded at Fenris’s words about how Danarius every time succeeded in tracking him down and that he suspected it was because of his markings. He had been right after all, though not in the way he’d imagined it.

‘So,’ Varric said, fingering his crossbow in a deceptive carelessly way, ‘as I understand well, this has nothing to do with young elven upstarts but everything with lyrium markings. And thus you ran immediately to this Elsy after our arrival. My, must you two have been surprised that after all these years the priceless elf popped up in Denerim of all places! You must have considered yourself already a rich man because of the reward after he got caught. And then the elf disappears again and shatters your dream. Time for another consultation with the baker. Such a pity Berran over here intervened, isn’t it. Tsk, and you thought to deceive me with a nice story about slaver hunters,’ he snorted.

‘I think we should grace the treacherous baker with an unexpected visit,’ said Hawke viciously.

At that very moment the front door of the tavern flung open and Zevran marched in, closely followed by Isabela. Hawke turned at the noise and her eyes grew wide with hope. ‘Zevran! Did you find him? Where is he?!’

The two rogues had halted just over the doorstep, taking in the scene.

‘Ah, I see you’ve caught a rat,’ Zevran said.

Berran let go of the bartender who dropped on the floor with all the elegance of a moaning sack of potatoes. No one paid him any attention except for Wynne who took care of him, or rather his broken wrists. Doryl looked at her through bleary but grateful eyes.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Hawke snapped edgily. ‘What did you find out? Why is Fenris not with you?’

Isabela gave her wan smile. ‘Sweetness, we could do with a shot of whisky after all the running around we did.’

Hawke got rigid. ‘Is he ...’ she didn’t dare to finish the sentence.

‘No,’ Isabela reassured her, ‘he’s not dead. But things got complicated.’

‘What do you mean, complicated?!’

Zevran sauntered to the counter, stooped over it and produced a bottle of whisky. He opened it and took a large gulp before handing it to Isabela. ‘Bartenders always keep the good stuff under the counter,’ he declared and turned his attention to an ever more impatient growing Hawke. ‘We found your lover,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid not in the best of circumstances. He is being held captive on an Antivan ship.’

Hawke frowned not comprehending. ‘Captive? On an Antivan ship ..?’ she echoed in a hesitant tone. That was one of the last things she had expected.

‘Crows?’ Varric informed.

Zevran shook his head. ‘No, the Crows have nothing to do with it. Our friend is held on a merchant ship. They sold wine and leather to Ferelden.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Apparently now they are planning to sell a lyrium infused elf to Tevinter.’

‘Since when do Antivan merchants act like slavers?’ asked Varric, perplexed.

Zevran shrugged elegantly. ‘They don’t, usually. Only when they’re convinced there’s little risk and great profit involved. We Antivans like profit, yes. A lot. I can’t say I’m proud of the occasional trade in slaves but there it is and our friend has fallen victim to it.’

Marian was already at the door. ‘What are we waiting for?’

“Er, an army?’ said Isabela. ‘Sweetness, we’re talking about a full manned ship. At least fifty hands if not more. Antivans take their merchandise very seriously and guard it with the same ferocity as a mother bear guards her cubs.’

‘I don’t care,’ Hawke hissed through clenched teeth and walked off.

‘Should I bother with “told you so”?’ she heard Isabela say to whomever cared to listen. The next moment she felt the presence of Berran at her back. He grabbed her elbow. ´Serah Hawke, I´m with you. But I think it’s wise to hear what the two rogues have to tell first before you rush into a fight that could end badly.´

Hawke took a deep breath. ‘I don’t intend to attack the ship like a brainless idiot but I want to see the situation with my own eyes. It will make it easier to decide what our next step will be. I’m certain Zevran and Isabela can tell us what happened on the way to the docks.’ She gestured at the crouching figure on the wooden floor. ’But before that, Berran, do me a favour and tie that piece of nugshit up before he causes more disasters.’

‘I swear I have nothing to do with –‘ Doryl started but was silenced with such an icy glower it almost literally froze him. He snapped his mouth shut.

- 

‘Evidently it all started with a bar brawl,’ Isabela said while they stepped outside in the cool air of the late evening. Thankfully it had stopped raining although certain dampness still lingered.

‘A bar brawl? That doesn’t sound like Fenris,’ Hawke objected.

‘It was definitely not his idea,’ Zevran commented darkly. ‘He was lured into a trap.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Fenris either.’

‘Er, Hawke, must I keep underlining the non thinking part?’ sounded Varric  behind her back.

Irritably Marian waved a hand. ‘Yes, yes, I know. Please go on.’

‘Regrettably it took us some time to track down my contact,’ Zevran continued. ‘There are a lot of obscure inns and taverns in Denerim, especially in the harbour district. But finally we found him and hit the jackpot, to put it that way. Who could have thought that he, of all people, had witnessed the event?’

Varric began to regret he hadn’t brought his notepad and pencil with him; on the other hand it would have been impossible to write anything down while attempting to keep up with the murdering pace Hawke had started. As so often before he had to rely on his memory.

‘Is this contact of yours trustworthy?’ Hawke asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

‘Ah, mia bellezza, I know what you’re thinking. Who can trust a Crow, yes? Rest assured, this person is, just like me, no longer with the Antivan Assassins and I saved his life when he was trying to escape them. He would never deceive me. But allow me to tell what occurred. My contact, let’s call him Fabio,’ ( _speaking about trust,_ Hawke thought wryly _),_ ‘was sitting in a dark corner when our elf entered the establishment in the company of someone who is apparently known as the Weasel. Doesn’t bode well, no? Moreover, Fabio saw at least half of the clientele stir in anticipation as if they already knew what was coming. Not a few moments later, just after Fenris had taken a sip of the ale he was served, he got up, alarmed it seemed. He was swaying and had to grab the edge of the table to keep his equilibrium. On cue more than ten men pounced upon him.’

‘Drugged,’ Hawke grumbled in a with fury choked voice.

‘Obviously there’s no other explanation. But even drugged and staggering he managed to draw his sword and take out four of his assailants before they pulled him down.’ Zevran paused. ‘It seems they hit him hard. Next Fabio saw the culprits dragging him out of the tavern, bleeding and unconscious.’

Marian clenched her fists. ‘I’ll give them a taste of their own medicine,’ she promised with a nasty snarl.

‘I’m sure you will and I am grateful I won’t be on the recipient end of your wrath. To cut a long story short, Fabio followed them and even got on board of the ship unseen and there he made a disturbing discovery.’

‘And why would he do that?’ Another twang of distrust wove through Marian’s voice.

‘Call it curiosity. Or perhaps an old Crow habit hard to get rid of would be a better explanation.’ The Antivan elf sighed before he continued. ‘He heard the ship captain bargain with a group of Tevinters about the price of a with lyrium tattooed slave. The Tevinters were apparently already travelling on the ship and sounded very pleased with the discovery and imprisonment of our friend.’

Hawke quickened her pace which made Varric call out in protest. ‘Hey, would you please slow down?! Not everyone has legs a mile long, you know!’ He cursed under his breath when he trotted into a muddy puddle.

‘Hadriana?’ was all Hawke said.

‘No. There was no woman present, just a group of slavers.’

Wynne explained, ‘Although they were defeated and driven out of the Alienage more than a year ago, bands of Tevinter slavers still try time and again to capture elves here in Denerim. Of course they are more cautious by now.’

‘We have to get Fenris off that ship as fast as possible,’ Marian said grimly, ‘before they sail.’

‘I agree, sweetness,’ Isabela piped up, ‘but as I said before, we need an army and as far as I understand Denerim has hardly enough soldiers left to guard the palace after the Blight and the civil war.’

‘We could make an appeal to the City Guard,’ Varric suggested, panting.

‘On whose authority?’ Wynne said and added ruefully, ‘They won’t take orders from others than their captain or the Queen or King. They won’t listen to me, let alone to mere civilians who not even hail from the city.’

‘It will take too long to find the Guard Captain or run to the palace,’ Isabela put in another word. ‘We have to come up with something different.’

And then a sudden brainwave hit Hawke. She stopped so abruptly that Isabela bumped into her and Varric almost lost his footing. ‘Zevran, where is the Alienage?’

‘On the other side of the Drakon River. We passed the bridge not too long ago. Why?’

A feral grin spread on her face. ‘Because I think I just found ourselves an army.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evidently a lot of action is going to take place in the next chapter, so, please, stay tuned...
> 
> And, as always, thank you so much for reading, for your reactions and for your kudos!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I promised at the end of the last chapter: action ahead! Lots of it, in fact.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 24

-

They were standing at the entrance of the docks, hidden in the dark. The quay was scarcely lit by the pinpricks of a few lanterns and sputtering braziers; of course the drizzle had started again and was slowly soaking them. Varric contemplated sulkily that it seemed as if the weather was trying to stone them to death with pieces of cotton wool. He suspected that if it kept on long enough, Madam Weather eventually would have her way. Perhaps they wouldn’t die of the wetness at this very instance but pneumonia and influenza were lurking around the corner. He sniffled and hoped to see another week without suffering from deadly diseases that would make Bianca a widow. Or a cripple, come to think about it. This cursed wetness could infect her as well as him.

 Hawke lifted her hand and the muttering of voices and shuffling of feet behind her back immediately died away. As far as the darkness permitted, Hawke took the situation in. She saw several ships being moored, softly rolling on the gentle waves sloshing against the wood of the quay. At this late hour, everything was quiet; even the office of the busy harbourmaster was deserted.

In a low voice she asked Zevran, who stood beside her, ‘Which one is our target?’ She had sent Isabela on a scouting mission to see if there were unwanted surprises waiting for them. It never seized to astonish her how the extravagant and boisterous woman managed to blend in with the environment to become a silent and as good as invisible shadow. Isabela’s omnipresent and loud personality often made her forget she was a very skilled rogue.

‘The last one,’ the Antivan elf replied.

Hawke observed a bulky vessel with a broad hull. She could discern some light glimmering through what seemed to be a curtained row of windows, a few yards above the waterline. She tried to compose a comment that would make sense. ‘At least they haven’t hoisted their sails yet,’ she said hesitantly. ‘That must be a good sign, yes?’ She had no knowledge of sailing whatsoever and cast an uncertain sidelong glance at Zevran who chuckled. He might not be an authority like the pirate queen but had spent enough time aboard a colourful collection of vessels to be a whole lot more informed about the nautical know-how than Hawke, who had made just two sea voyages in her entire life and at those occasions hadn’t paid any attention at all to the technical part of how to move a ship or even how to keep it afloat.

‘Don’t worry cara mia, they won’t be able to get that old tub ready to sail within a moment, to use Isabela’s vocabulary. Besides that, the tide isn’t right.’

‘Oh. Yes. Of course,’ Hawke mumbled, at a loss. ‘The tide. Hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Serah Hawke, a word?’ Berran asked. He took her apart and swayed his arm slightly in the direction of the band of elves that stood behind them. ‘Do you really plan to launch a frontal attack on a well guarded ship with that ragtag army?’

Hawke looked at him and a little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘Who says anything about a frontal attack? I want to use stealth, at least to get aboard. But, ah, I almost forgot. Stealth isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it,’ she said teasingly.

‘You don’t have to remind me,’ the Seeker grumbled.

‘And what’s perhaps more important, your so-called ragtag army have the determination of a pack of Marbari about to sink their teeth into the enemy. Or should I say of a bunch of Seekers chasing after an innocent victim?’

Berran stared hard at her. ‘You’re annoying me on purpose.’

‘Perhaps,’ Hawke grinned.

‘I can only hope that the elves will show the discipline that’s needed to be victorious,’ Berran said wearily.

‘Well, we can never be certain but I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. They have morale on their side, a whole lot of it. That’s a strong weapon.’

She threw a glance over her shoulder upon the group of about sixty mostly young elves. It hadn’t been as easy to recruit them as she’d imagined when the thought had arisen. The youngsters had been eager enough but Shianni, who was the Alienage’s Hahren, a function similar to a Dalish Keeper as far as Hawke understood, had been very suspicious at first.

Hawke had been pleasantly surprised when they strode along the Alienage, led by Zevran on whose advice they were searching for the Hahren. Despite the late hour the elven quarter had been lit by a number of lanterns that hung over the doors of the shacks – small houses, Hawke corrected herself; these dwellings looked in a good state of repair, not on the brink of collapsing like in Kirkwall. The paved roads were free of mud and puddles; here and there were little well maintained vegetable gardens.

‘A lot has changed since the last time I visited this place,’ Zevran had said with admiration. ‘At that time it was a gloomy slum filled with dirt, disease and despair.’

‘Times have changed, my dear Zevran,’ Wynne had replied, ‘and Shianni is a very strong-minded Hahren with a mouth that can spit fire, and she’s not afraid to use that at court to ventilate her opinions and get her way. She not only bullied the royal counsel to get funds to rebuild the Alienage after the Blight but also her own elves to accomplish that task.’

They had been followed by an increasing number of curious elves until they had reached the Vhenadahl Tree, that was brilliantly alight with dozens of colourful lanterns and lampions. And that’s where they had met with Shianni. Hawke had addressed her politely and explained why they were here. But the red-haired elven leader had neither been impressed nor enthusiastic.

‘Who says you’re not slavers yourself,’ she had said with a piercing glower, while standing next to the giant tree with the composure of a stubborn queen. ‘Or want to use our elves as fodder for enemy arrows?’

Hawke had bristled indignantly but before she could ruin the negotiations before they had even started, Zevran had stepped forward. ‘My lovely Shianni, beautiful and fierce as ever,’ he’d said with a disarming smile and an elegant bow. ‘You remember me, yes?’

Luckily she did and apparently Zevran had left a good impression insofar that Shianni trusted him. And finally, after a lot of back and forth talking, she had given her young warriors permission to go with them. Hawke had to admit Berran wasn’t far off with that “ragtag army”; the elves were mostly armed with light bows, short swords of dubious quality and simple wooden shields. But she was confident they would compensate the lack of decent weaponry with fanaticism. And the orderly and silent way they had marched behind them on the short route to the docks had convinced her they didn’t lack discipline. Their leader was named Soris; he was a few years older than the others and a cousin to Shianni.

‘Be careful now,’ Hawke told the elves, ‘the quay seems abandoned but we don’t want to cause anyone to sound an alarm. Stay in the shadows, make as little sound as possible. We have to reach the last ship in this row without being seen or heard.’

At that moment Isabela emerged out of the gloom. ‘I couldn’t detect any direct danger,’ she reported, ‘otherwise that strangely enough the gangplank is down. It almost looks as if they’re expecting someone. On the other hand, there’re only two sentries posted so they definitely aren’t expecting an army.’

Hawke frowned. ‘Why is it strange the gangplank is down?’

‘Because, sweetness, no captain with half a brain wants the part of his crew that’s not on leave to sneak ashore to go on a spree in the harbour’s taverns. You never know when or even if they will return with all the important bits still attached and less if they haven’t signed on another ship with the promise of better prospects.’

‘But I thought pirates were notorious of going on a rampage or spree or whatever they do in every harbour they dock,’ Hawke contradicted.

‘Of course they are. But you can rely on them to return to their captain the next day, that is if they’re not dead or imprisoned. If they don’t, you’re a lousy captain and don’t deserve a faithful crew. But these are no pirates. These hands will change ship as often as whores change their outfit if they think it will bring them greater profit.’

Hawke shook her head. ‘Right. Another useful lesson learned. Back to the task at hand.’ She turned to Soris. ‘I need two of your best archers to come with me. I rely on you to choose them. Isabela, you also come along. The rest of you wait here.’ She thought for a second. ‘You move the moment you hear Isabela’s whistle but be silent. And Wynne,’ she hesitated, ‘please don’t put yourself in danger.’ She hadn’t been happy the First Enchanter had joined them. Sure enough she knew she had played a significant role in ending the Blight but nevertheless the woman looked frail and she would feel terrible if anything would happen to her under her command.

Wynne smiled enigmatically. ‘Don’t fuss over me, Serah Hawke, I faced worse.’

Hawke sighed. ‘Alright then. Let’s go.’

Together with the two elves Soris had picked, Hawke and Isabela cautiously stole toward their unsuspecting targets, carefully staying in the shadows. They halted under the cover of an awning of a closed market stall. Isabela pointed at two men guarding the gangplank on the ship, standing under a brightly burning lantern. Hawke nodded. But before she could utter a word, the sentries went down, both with an arrow through their throats. They hadn’t had the chance to cry out or even gurgle; the only sound they made was a low thud when their bodies hit the deck. Wide-eyed Hawke stared from the ship back to the two elves who gave her a smile with a grim edge.

‘Wow!’ Isabela murmured in awe. ‘That’s what I call a shot! Even Varric could learn a thing or two from that performance.’ She stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a short sharp whistle.

Hawke, who hadn’t expected Isabela to be this loud, knitted her brows. ‘And they didn’t hear that?’ she mouthed, directing at the ship with her head.

Isabela flashed her a grin. ‘Deckhand sign, sweetness,’ she whispered, ‘nothing they would get suspicious about. Alright, I’m going to look around on the ship, you wait here for me.’ The pirate queen hurried over the gangplank and seemed to dissolve into the darkness within seconds. About the same time the elven army arrived, together with Varric, Zevran, Wynne and Berran.

Isabela returned as quietly as she had set off. ‘It is as that Fabio character said,’ she reported. ‘There are six Tevinter slavers on board, all gathered in the captain quarters under the bridge.’ She sighed when she saw the question mark on Hawke’s face. ‘At the front of the ship, the bow, on your right-hand side.’ She groaned inwardly. ‘They are drinking with the captain and his first mate. One of them is a mage. There’s one sentry on the bridge, or should I say “was” since he isn’t anymore.’

‘You killed him?’

Isabela cocked an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t hear you complain when those amazing elves made short work of the other two guards. I can’t help it the man wasn’t flighing-knifeproof.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ Hawke grinned darkly. ‘I just wanted to make sure.’

‘Good. The crow’s nest is abandoned, as was to be expected since the ship is docked, and the rest of the hands are in the hold. Probably snoozing in hammocks or playing carts. The hatch leading to the hold is at ... at the left of you,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘Fenris?’ Hawke asked curtly.

‘Haven’t seen him, but my guess is he’s somewhere below deck. Most ships, even merchant’s ones, have some kind of jail because you can bet your knickers someone is going to misbehave on a voyage and has to be punished. Some captains prefer flogging, others lock the miscreants up until they know again how to behave.’

Hawke looked hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure if having a battle on a ship is such a good idea. It will be very cramped and chaotic.’

Isabela put a hand on her hip. ‘You want to lure them out? I’m telling you now they won’t bite. A captain will not abandon his ship when there’s peril, not even in a harbour. And besides that, I do hope your eyesight is well enough to distinguish an elf from a sailor or a slaver?’

Hawke bowed her head and tried to think. She was afraid everyone would bump into each other on that deck; on the other hand they would have the element of surprise. She turned to Varric. ‘Could Bianca blow the door out of the captain’s quarters?’

The dwarf beamed broadly. ‘She would be more than pleased to accommodate.’

‘Then we’ll get on that bloody ship and start with eliminating those slavers. If possible I want the captain alive. Come on, let’s start this game.’

They sneaked aboard and on a single gesture of Soris the elves lined up in formation, swords and bows at the ready. Hawke stepped in front of them, her daggers already drawn.

‘I want ten archers to take position in that, that rope maze thingy,’ she ordered in a soft tone.

Isabela winced as if she was physically hit. ‘It’s called rigging,’ she corrected sternly.

‘I don’t care what’s it called, as long as they know what I mean. They will have an advantage up there. Soris?’

The elf already had sent the requested archers into the rigging; they nimbly climbed up and settled themselves, keeping their balance with their thighs and bare feet. They each nocked an arrow and waited for the moment to fire.

In the meantime Varric had been fiddling with his crossbow and now climbed on a crate, shouldering Bianca and aiming at his target. The next moment he let loose a volley of bolts and with a thunderous boom the door to the captain quarters exploded in a cloud of shards and splinters.

Hawke gaped open-mouthed at the wreckage. ‘What the hell did you do with that crossbow?’ she cried out, flabbergasted.

‘Bianca is a fiery mistress with some very interesting secrets,’ Varric tittered cheerfully. ‘But, alas, I can’t share them. That’s why there’re called secrets, you see.’

‘So much for stealth,’ the Seeker commented with a hint of smugness in his voice.

‘Well, yes, we don’t need that any longer, do we,’ Hawke replied dryly.

Not a moment later a whirl of ice shards came flying through the smashed door and Hawke threw herself on the floor. The elves simply raised their shields. But the attack was countered by a wave of kinetic energy before it could do any harm; the shards clattered on the deck and started to melt immediately. When she looked up, Hawke met the smiling face of Wynne, standing under the lantern next to Varric. For a moment she thought the Fereldan mage winked at her but she had no time to ponder it, or even be surprised.

Now the hatch on the other side of the deck flew open and a band of sailors came swarming out of it, alarmed by the noise.

‘Soris! Those are yours!’ Hawke yelled. ‘Varric, Wynne, cover us while we go for the Tevinters!’

Soris barked a few orders and while the elven archers shot their arrows into the fray from their vintage point, the rest of the warriors formed a phalanx, approaching the enemy in a tight line, shields locked together, swords sticking out. In the meantime Hawke darted to the captain’s quarters, with Berran, Isabela and Zevran following in her wake. Varric shouted out a warning and they ducked behind a crate just before he again fired a volley of bolts, this time destroying a section of the wooden wall next to the door. Through the haze of wood dust and chips appeared some figures as shadows in the mist. The light streaming out off the captain’s cabin lit them from behind and intensified the ghostly illusion. Hawke leapt forwards and lunged at the first person she encountered. The man parried her thrust just in time and struck back. Hawke deftly jumped out of his reach, twirled around and hit him with a backhand blow. With a cry he stumbled back, clutching at his arm.

Behind her back the hands had thrown themselves upon the elves, but the latter stood their ground. They held their shield wall with grim determination and stabbed with their shortswords at every limb and other body parts they could reach, at the same time crashing into the enemy with their shields, driving them back. How hard the sailors tried, they weren’t able to break their strong formation. The elven slaver hunters roared their battle cries to add to the din and caused even more terror and confusion.

Hawke more felt than saw a movement behind her back but before she could react she got hit by a magic blow that swept her back; she crashed into the mainmast and fell heavily on the deck. ‘Bloody hell,’ she cursed, trying to scramble up and shaking her head to get rid of the dizziness. ‘Wynne!’ she called out. ‘Take that blasted mage down!’

‘All taken care of, sweetness,’ smirked Isabela, who appeared into her vision, while she helped her up. ‘Flying knives, such a wonderful phenomenon. The bastard never knew what hit him.’

Without an answer Hawke hurled herself into the fight again, aiming for a burly man who she suspected to be the first mate. The man lunged at her with a large sabre; she denied the thrust by ducking agilely under the blade. She turned swiftly on the balls of her feet and plunged one of her blades into the man’s side, leaping back again. With a howl he swung his sabre in a wide arc, slicing through the leather guard that protected her right underarm.

‘You fucking idiot, you ruined my armour!’ she growled but before she could pounce upon him, she got pulled away by Berran. The Seeker kicked the first mate in the stomach with such force that the man went flying backwards through the considerably widened door. A loud crash of breaking wood and glass indicated that he probably had hit a cabinet of some sorts.

‘I could have handled him myself,’ Hawke snapped. The Seeker nodded at her right hand. ‘With just one dagger?’ Hawke stared from her cut arm guard down to her dagger-less hand, along which a small red rivulet spilled bright droplets of blood on the wooden deck, and further to the very weapon lying on the floor at her feet. She must have lost it at the impact of the sabre but never realized it. Sheepishly she grinned at Berran. ‘A “thank you” should be in order, I guess,’ she said.

He picked up the dagger and handed it to her with a little smile. ‘Lead the way,’ was all he said.

On the other side of the ship the elves encountered their first problem; the hatch was, of course, still open and had already swallowed three crewmembers who had fallen down the steep stairs with a piercing scream. The phalanx hesitated and came to a halt. They had to split in two to push on but by doing so they would make themselves vulnerable. The sailors felt their dilemma and started to shove back. Their long knives began to make their first casualties. Soris saw the beginning of a disaster. He had fought with his army but now climbed into the rigging to have a better sight of what was happening. He realized the danger. The sailors became more bold and the tight elven line started to waver.

‘Close the breaches!’ he roared. ‘Take a step back! Now! Count! One! Two! Another step! Stay strong! Hold the line!’ The elves gritted their teeth and stood firm once more. ‘Hold them at the gap! Don’t give them an inch; remember they are slavers!’ That encouragement was enough to rekindle the flame of enragement. It didn’t matter the Antivan sailors weren’t slavers themselves, the fact they worked with the Tevinters sufficed to give the elven warriors the strength to fight them back. ‘Keep shooting!’ Soris ordered his archers, and he pointed out the targets. At that very moment a bronzed figure whirled himself into the battle.

Zevran had decided Hawke didn’t need him any longer to fight a bunch of Tevinters now their mage was down. The brave young elves had more need of his assistance right now. ‘Listen to your leader!’ he cried. ‘These slaver whores are nothing but a bunch of feeble cowards!’ To emphasise his words, he twirled through the shabby attempt of the counterattack and took several enemies down with an inimitable fast succession of movements. Confusion in the enemy ranks ensued. Drawing courage from Zevran’s performance, the army finally dared to split in two and before the sailors were aware of what was happening, they felt the iron of the swords and the wood of the shields battering them down. Their falling numbers increased rapidly. They were driven back beyond the obstacle of the opened latch to the railing of the ship where they got pinned down.

At that time Hawke and Berran were forcing the last of the Tevinters, who had been wielding menacing longswords in a very skilled way, into a corner. Isabela had let loose her last throwing knife that had missed the target at a mere inch and joined them, her fighting daggers in her hands. The look on the faces of the slavers was a classic example of desperation, despite the longswords they were still holding. They knew they were beaten.

‘Stop this!’ a loud voice suddenly bellowed over the noise of the battle. ‘Stop this right now before you destroy my ship!’ Hawke looked up to see the captain standing on the bridge, a sabre in one hand, the other one held high.

‘Not before you yield and order your men to stop fighting!’ Hawke shouted back.

‘You come up here, woman, and we parley.’

‘You’re in no position to parley, you fool. Your Tevinter friends are as good as dead,’ she took a quick look around and the scene made her smile, ‘and your men are defeated. I suggest you come down here and surrender. If you don’t, my friend here will take you down with one of her throwing knives faster you can bat your lashes. Order your men to stand down and perhaps I will let you and your crew live.’

Isabela would be the last one to tell Hawke her throwing knives were all but spent. Instead she feigned to reach for her sleeve, as if there still remained one of the small weapons she could wield with deadly accuracy. Involuntarily the captain backed away, visibly clenching his jaw.

A short, heavy silence lingered before the captain threw his sabre on the floor.

‘Just don’t slaughter my men,’ he said in a pleading tone.

‘That’s not my intend,’ Hawke retorted. She turned once more. ‘Soris?’ she called out to the elven commander. ‘Tell your elves to step down. Or even better, find some rope and bind the men. But keep them alive. They will be brought to justice, I will see to it personally.’ She turned to the captain who had by now descended from the bridge and stood meekly before her. ‘As will a court decide about your fate. I’m no murderer. But you have made a pact with slavers. I find that unforgivable.’

Varric and Wynne came walking over.

‘I think it is best to hand them over to the King and Queen,’ the First Enchanter said, hoping Hawke would heed her words.

To her relief Hawke nodded. ‘I agree.’ And then her eyes narrowed. ‘Where is the elf you took captive?’ she snarled. The captain recoiled, shocked by her sudden intimidating glare. Berran caught his arm before he could flee in some desperate attempt.

‘I, eh, in the hold, but, but he,’ the captain stuttered but Hawke didn’t let him finish.

‘Make sure this bastard won’t get away,’ she grumbled. ‘I go looking for Fenris.’ She turned on her heals and ran to the opened latch, ignoring the chaos of sailors being tied up and others still trying to resist without avail. While descending the flight of steps, she passed three dazed men, clinging unto the steep stairs with a bewildered look in their eyes. She paid no attention to them. ‘Fenris!’ she cried out.

-

Berran held the captain in a firm grip while he dragged him to his captured men. Isabela and Varric had tied the three still living Tevinter slavers to the stairs leading to the bridge, with the promise they would encounter much worse misery in the near future, and after that followed Berran and Wynne. Zevran and Soris joined them.

‘You make me ashamed by calling myself an Antivan when I look upon you,’ Zevran spat at the squirming captain. ‘Making deals with Tevinter slavers! How could you sink so low!’

‘You’re Antivan too,’ the captain squeaked miserably, ‘you know it’s all about profit!’

Isabela just caught Zevran’s fist before it hit the captain’s face. ‘Let him speak,’ she hissed. Zevran’s reaction might have been out of character, but she felt the same emotion raging through her system. Slavers made her nauseous. On the other hand did it serve no purpose to beat a man into a bloody pulp if he might have valuable information. Zevran seemed to realize the same and backed down.

‘Who paid you to do this?’ Berran pressed, twitching the captain’s arm. Varric mused it was definitely the man’s favourite way of interrogation. The captain screamed out in agony.

‘I don’t know!’ he exclaimed.

‘Don’t give me that bullshit,’ Berran rumbled.

‘I really don’t know,’ the captain cried. His men stared at him with a mixture of fear and contempt. ‘The mage came to me with a proposition. He told me he got information about a tattooed elf. He said he would pay me handsomely for the guy. I sent a lad after him. He lured him –‘

They got interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream, followed by a rattling noise as if somebody was trying to break the iron bars of a prison with their bare hands.

‘What the –‘ Isabela started and stormed off; she literary glided down the steep, narrow wooden stairs leading to the hold. Berran immediately pursued her. He dragged the captain along, not caring one bit the man stumbled over the first step and bumped his way down on his behind. 

Hawke was lying on her knees, powerlessly clutching the iron bars.

´He’s dead,’ she cried, ‘the bastards killed him.’

Varric, who had descended more cautiously, stared in horror at the still form of the Tevinter elf, lying motionless on his side. ‘No,’ he whispered, ‘this is not the way the story is supposed to end.’

Isabela was already picking the lock, not waiting for the captain to produce the key.

Hawke looked up and caught sight of the Antivan captain, hauled upon his feet again by Berran. Her eyes grew wide with rage and she jumped to the man with a feral snarl. Her hands gripped around his throat. ‘What have you done to him, you fucking son of a bitch?!’ she roared. At this very moment she wished she had the ability to rip out his heart with her bare hands. Instead she shook him vehemently, almost crushing his larynx. ‘Tell me!’ she screamed. The man made some pathetic gurgling noises and she felt a force on her arms that drew her away. She tried to fight against it.

‘No, Serah Hawke, don’t kill him, he can be of use,’ the Seeker tried to calm her down.

‘I don’t care!’ she screeched. ‘I want him dead! He killed Fenris!’

Varric hung with all his might on her left arm while Zevran pulled her right hand away from the captain’s throat. With a heartbreaking sob she sagged against the Antivan elf, all strength suddenly seeped away. ‘He’s dead, they murdered him,’ she whimpered.

And then Wynne called, ’He is not dead, Serah Hawke, he is breathing.’

Marian let out a loud gasp and darted into the opened cage, falling on her knees next to Wynne. The First Enchanter had already removed the bonds and carefully turned Fenris on his back. ‘They bound him with enchanted ropes,’ she said with disgust and started to examine him. ‘He is badly wounded,’ she concluded, ‘mostly internal injuries. Broken ribs, a punctured lung, a torn spleen, badly bruised kidneys ... Maker, it’s a wonder he still lives.’

‘I didn’t know he was in such a bad shape,’ the captain babbled nervously. ‘I sent for a healer but –‘

‘Shut up,’ Berran snarled.

‘Well, that at least explains why the gangplank was down,’ Isabela said. ‘Here’s a little tip,’ she added sarcastically, ‘next time you take someone captive for money, try not to damage them too much, it’s not good for the profit. I bet those Tevinters didn’t know about this, hm.’ The captain was wise enough not to answer.

‘Please Wynne, can you heal him?’ Marian pleaded, tense with desperation.

‘I think I can but it will take time.’ Her hands hovered over Fenris’s frame, engulfing him with soft blue light. After a while she had to stop, too drained to carry on. ‘This will have to do for the moment,’ she said with a deep sigh. ‘We can move him now without causing more harm. I suggest we take him to the palace; I’m certain Queen Elissa won’t object. But we’ll have to find something to lay him upon.’

‘I can carry him,’ the Seeker offered, ‘he doesn’t look that heavy.’

But Wynne shook her head. ’No, he must lie flat; his body must be disturbed as little as possible.

‘What about the hatch to the hold?’ Varric proposed.

While the others discussed the best way to transport Fenris, Marian sat down next to him. She softly touched his face that looked unnaturally pale. A smudge of dried blood ran from his hair past his ear to his throat. She had seen him bleed before but the way the dark colour stood out against the paleness of his skin made her cringe. She stroked his cheek and wiped away the moon-white bangs from his brow. She stooped over him and kissed him tenderly.

‘Fenris, my love, can you hear me?’ she whispered. ‘I’m here for you, we all are, we’re going to save you.’

He stirred and his lips moved. ‘Rosemary,’ he murmured.

She was exalted to hear him make a sound and bowed closer. ‘Fenris?’

With his eyes still closed, his hand moved as at a will of its own and his fingers touched her hair. ‘Rosemary,’ he sighed and smiled faintly. She took his hand in hers and placed a gentle kiss upon his palm. He took a shuddering, shallow breath and after that seemed to sink back into his deep unconsciousness once more.

‘I will never change that scent,’ she promised while she fought back her rising tears.

‘Serah Hawke?’ Wynne’s voice sounded. ‘We will take him to the palace now.’

Marian nodded and reluctantly moved away.

 

An hour later Fenris was lying in a clean bed in one of the guestrooms in the royal palace. Wynne had treated him again and had said that, in fact, sleep was the best medicine for now. She had taken care of the nasty cut in Hawke’s right arm. Marian hadn’t even been aware the cut that had ruined her wrist guard had been that deep. Right now it was the least of her worries. The Antivan captain and the three remaining Tevinter slavers were locked up in the palace’s dungeons. Berran had set off to collect the spy Doryl and bring him to the palace as well; the treacherous baker was hauled out of her bed and also thrown into the dungeons. King Alistair had ordered his own soldiers to relieve the elves and guard the Antivan crew until it was decided what to do with them.

Hawke sat next to Fenris on a chair close to his bed. She had refused to go to sleep and had only accepted a blanket to pull over her. She stared at his white face and sleeping frame. She hoped with all her might he would wake up ever again and, when he did, he wouldn’t be angry with her about the horrendous things she had yelled at him. The hours crept slowly from night-time to early morning and despite her will to stay awake, fatigue finally overwhelmed her and she slowly slipped into a fast sleep.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the action was all you hoped for...
> 
> At any rate, thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be sex, again, I'm afraid. But this time I would call it "functional sex" because quite important will happen.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 25

-

Leliana sat nursing a pint of dark beer in a corner of an inn somewhere near the Fereldan border. After having camped many nights out in the open, it was a relief to spend the night under a roof once more. Together with the Wardens Elissa and Alistair, she had been sleeping for months in a row in a tent, or under the stars, while they were fighting the Blight and at the same time trying to prevent a civil war. But for some reason or another it hadn’t seemed as uncomfortable back then to lie on a thin bedroll in the damp cold night air that seeped into her clothes as it did this time. Perhaps because they had been on a mission to save the world, or at least to save Ferelden, she mused. And the fact that the decision to accompany the Wardens had been her own, certainly had helped to overcome all the little discomforts. She had been convinced the Maker himself had given her that task, so who was she to complain about a few stones in her back or the disgusting food Alistair managed to concoct? Her thoughts wandered to the moment she’d met Elissa Cousland in Barlin’s tavern in Lothering in the middle of a fight. She suppressed a little smile; the woman had had a talent to attract all sorts of problems and many fights soon would follow.

The memory of Lothering brought her back to the reason why she was sent on a new mission. Marian Hawke. She remembered her well and still could hardly believe the girl was a mage. She had spent hours with her practicing the roguish skills of knife fighting and had taught her the tricks of laying and avoiding traps. She knew, of course, her father and sister were mages – the whole village had known – but never had she suspected it had passed on to Marian as well. If this was really the case, she hadn’t been eager to show or use her endowment. Or had been extremely good at hiding it. Leliana let out a light sigh and took a sip of her ale.

Up till now the journey had gone smoothly; the commanding captain (or rather Baron Villefranche, Leliana suspected) had decided they would travel over land, disguised as a band of mercenaries to avoid unwanted identification and commotion. After all, they were on an assignment to secretly take three persons into custody and it would be very inconvenient if their targets were warned beforehand. The weather had been fine, except for an occasional light shower, which was normal for this time of the year, and they had made good progress.

Nevertheless, the former bard didn’t feel at ease. It was clear she was considered an outsider in their undercover special squad. The seven other members of their group had been carefully avoiding her, and the captain, Ser Beaugris, had been throwing outright hostile glances in her direction when he thought she didn’t notice. She had grown tired of it, what was why she had separated herself this evening from the others. With the excuse she was feeling cold, she had moved to a small table close to the roaring fire. Summer was approaching fast, but in the south the nights could still be chilly. While she was ruminating over her memories of Marian Hawke, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Warily she watched how Ser Beaugris rose from his seat and strode towards her little corner beside the hearth in a determined way. He sat down on the bench opposite of her.

He glared coldly at her before he said straightforwardly, ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and although I haven’t found or sensed anything suspicious, I simply don’t trust you.’ His icy pale blue eyes pierced into hers and would have made someone without her training shiver. Leliana kept her calm composure. ‘I still wonder why Villefranche saddled me with you. Speak up, has he sent you with us to spy on me? Are you to sabotage this expedition?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Leliana answered unperturbed, meeting his glance without a blink. ‘He told me I was given this opportunity to proof myself. That’s all.’ His words didn’t surprise her; she had been with the Seekers long enough to know they would sabotage anything, even operations of their own, if they thought it would serve a greater purpose.

‘To proof what exactly?’

‘That I am worthy of becoming a senior Seeker. I was made to understand this is common practice.’

‘Were you now.’ Beaugris’s harsh voice obtained a malicious undertone. He was silent for some heavy moments. ‘I don’t know what you did to gain Villefranche’s confidence and frankly I don’t want to know. But rest assured I will keep watching you, you little red-haired bitch, and if I detect even the slightest suspicious behaviour, I will not hesitate to take severe measurements. Protégée of the big man or not, accidents can always happen.  Do you understand?’ he growled.

Leliana offered him her sweetest and most meek smile. ‘I understand perfectly, captain, but I assure you that you won’t find anything amiss. I have specifically been told to follow your orders.’

He glared at her some more but didn’t seem able to entirely keep up his callous demeanour. ‘I will not even give you the benefit of the doubt but you could start with winning a sliver of trust by joining us at our table, instead of isolating yourself.’

While she followed Beaugris’s long, muscular frame, Leliana groaned inwardly. It would be far more difficult to spend time alone with Wynne and Marian Hawke than she already had feared.

-

Hadriana had never felt so relieved as when she got back on deck and deeply inhaled the tangy salt tasting air. They had been hit by a storm that had lasted for two days. Two horrific days of being tossed around and hurled up and down by waves that had been higher than the Argent Spire in Minrathous, and more menacing than the gruesome beasts that were let loose in the Grand Proving Arena to devour each other or the men that were forced to fight them. Two never-ending days of a forced stay in the hold amidst people who were scared to death, praying out loud, yowling, screaming and vomiting and soiling themselves out of sheer dread. Two terrifying days in which she found out her magic was useless against the fury of this ferocious tempest and she was convinced she would perish.

When it was all over, she had been astonished the ship hadn’t gone down and she had still been alive. She scrambled on deck and sank down against a wooden barrel that amazingly not had fallen overboard. She gulped in clean fresh air and stared at the clear blue sky above her, innocently bright as if nothing had happened.

‘This was a narrow escape,’ the voice of the captain sounded above her. ‘Even a seasoned old salt as I will admit that. The ship has suffered considerable damaged, though, and it will take some time to repair her. I’m afraid our arrival at Amaranthine will be delayed by several days, if not a week.’

Hadriana just nodded and waved him off. She was more than glad she still could _be_ delayed, getting angry about it could wait for the moment.

-

When he woke up, the first thing Fenris noticed was that he was no longer in pain, and then that he could breathe again. Soon after that he realized his bonds were gone and that he was lying in a bed. Apparently, someone had made an effort at washing his bloodied and grimy body and had dressed him in a loose shirt of some soft material; it felt like expensive silk. There were no bandages. He tested his lungs by taking in a few deep breaths. He encountered no difficulties; it was a blessing to be able to breathe freely again. He was still somewhat sore but the agonizing ache was gone. He was pretty sure that the last time his consciousness still worked, he was about to die, but for some reason he was convinced he hadn’t woke up in the Void. For starters, there was actual air to breathe in. He opened his eyes. It took a few moments to let his eyesight adjust to the dim light surrounding him and when he could see properly, he found himself staring at an unknown ceiling. Still a bit groggy he mulled over the fact that it was remarkable how many different ceilings there existed. This one was constructed out of wood. With some difficulty, inwardly cursing the stiffness of his body, he managed to sit up. The bed and the walls of the room were as unfamiliar as the ceiling had been. He couldn’t distinguish much of it in the diffuse light, but what he saw didn’t ring a bell. Where the hell was he and by whom had he been taken here?

Then he saw Hawke who was sleeping in a chair next to the bed and his new-found breath hitched. Wherever he was, it wasn’t in a hostile environment; Marian was here. She had come for him. She had come for him and found him and freed him. He couldn’t remember it but her presence made it clear. He frowned when a fleeting remembrance pointed out a whiff of rosemary, just before or after that moment he lost his life. Before, apparently. He wouldn’t be in this strange room otherwise, totally aware of his existence. He tried to concentrate on what was important. After all the utterly stupid and hurtful things he had thrown at her and the ultimate betrayal of running away from her, whatever his intentions might have been, she had searched for him and saved him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine through how much trouble she had gone to do that. It made him feel warm and grateful and humble.

The door opened and he instinctively reached for his weapon that wasn’t there. The short moment of panic passed when he saw Wynne entering the room. He put his finger to his lips, indicating at the sleeping Hawke. The Fereldan First Enchanter just nodded with a little understanding smile. She walked over to him and sat down on the bed.

‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered.

‘Well enough. And alive to my amazement. Where am I?’ he whispered back.

‘In the royal palace. But I’ll leave the story of the bold rescue-operation to Serah Hawke. Let it suffice to say you were taken prisoner by some Antivan merchants by order of a small group of Tevinter slavers.’ She saw the sudden panicked look in his eyes and added, ‘Neither Danarius nor Hadriana had anything to do with it. It was pure coincidence, or should I say a typical case of very bad luck, they spotted you at the docks.’ She rose and poured a glass of water from an earthen jug, sitting on a small table beside the bed. ‘You must be thirsty,’ she said, handing him the glass.

He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he started drinking. She poured him some more water. When he had finished, she put the glass back on the table.

‘Fenris,’ she began a little hesitantly, ‘I know your feelings towards magic, so I think it’s just fair to tell I had no other choice than to apply it to heal you.’

He stared at her with an unfathomable look. ‘And now you expect me to burst out in rage for the impertinence of saving my life?’

Wynne had to press down a chuckle. ‘No, Fenris, I didn’t expect that. I only thought you ought to know. Now with that settled, if you wish you can freshen up in the bathing room at the back. Do you feel strong enough to do this on your own or do you need assistance?’

‘I think I can manage.’

Wynne noticed his pace was steady when he walked to the bathing room. She fluffed up his pillows and sat down again. ‘Yes, I know,’ she spoke softly after a while, as if she was answering an invisible person. She rested her eyes upon Hawke’s sleeping form. ‘He was dying, even my healing abilities wouldn’t have let him survive ...’ She rubbed her face. ‘I could not let it happen, it would have killed her. Their love is strong, it was worth it.’ She tilted her head as if listening to a voice only she was able to hear. ‘No. He must not know and neither must she. I am grateful for your help but they would not understand.’ She let out a sigh. ‘Yes, he will notice – something, I’m certain, but please don’t disturb him too much. We will not converse about this again. What’s done is done and I don’t regret it.’

-

Fenris leaned back into the pillows. On Wynne’s advice, he had gone back to bed. She claimed he needed to rest but he didn’t feel as tired as he should. She hadn’t given much information about his injuries but he knew damn well he’d been in such a bad condition that death had been very close. He had not much experience with healing magic but enough to know that even a well skilled mage wasn’t able to restore a battered and broken body to health this fast. Even Anders couldn’t have accomplished that. He loathed the man but the one thing he was willing to accept, was his healing capability. Normally he would put his swift recovery down to his markings, but due to the enchanted bonds they still didn’t work adequately. After some contemplation, he decided to prod the subject no longer; perhaps Wynne was indeed extraordinary competent. Even more than Anders. He liked that idea.

He looked at Marian. She sat curled up, her legs tucked under her. Her head rested against a pillow propped up behind her shoulders, her face was half covered with locks of her hair that gleamed golden in the shimmering candlelight. She looked peaceful in her sleep and yet traces of sorrow and concern seemed to linger in her beautiful features. His doing, he thought remorsefully. The blanket that wrapped her frame had slipped and revealed a light blue tunic with long sleeves that covered her arms, but on the other hand made no secret of her attractive breasts. In this position, her cleavage was almost as inviting as the one the pirate queen so much liked to put on display. One sleeve had crawled up to her elbow. He saw a long pink scar of a freshly healed nasty cut running over her underarm and his stomach knotted. _Because of me._ He lost track of time watching her and at some point, he realized dawn had broken; a faint light fell into the room through the half-opened curtains. Suddenly she stirred and opened her eyes. She looked a bit blurred and puzzled as if she tried to figure out where she was but then her eyes widened in pleased surprise. They, however, immediately clouded over.

‘Fenris! You’re awake!’ Her voice sounded happy but she looked wary. ‘And you’re sitting up! Are you feeling alright?’ She bit her lip in a nervous way and her fingers fidgeted with the blanket. She smiled but he could see it wasn’t genuine, no matter how hard she tried.

‘I’m fine,’ he said carefully, wondering what her uneasy demeanour meant. He pushed back the sheets and coverlets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit in front of her.

On her turn, she threw off the blanket and stood up as if she recoiled from his likely touch. She stepped to the side table and reached for the glass and jug. ‘Do you mind if I drink some of your water?’ Her voice sounded strained.

‘By all means, go ahead.’ He got more anxious by the minute. ‘What is wrong, Marian?’ A nasty feeling started to turn his innards into ice. _She wants to leave you._ The irksome little voice was back.

She drank half a glass of water and sat down again, pushing her back hard against the chair. She looked at her hands, that were idly lying in her lap, ostentatiously avoiding his penetrating concerned look. Her lips moved as if she wasn’t certain what to say and was silently trying out some sentences. ‘I’m so sorry, Fenris, I know you hate it but Wynne had to use magic on you,’ she blurted in the end. He was positive this was not the most important issue on her mind right now and that she had wanted to say something completely different.

‘Yes, I know already and I don’t mind,’ he reacted with an impatient gesture, ‘those days are behind me. Now tell me what’s really bothering you. You have me worried.’ _You know damn well what’s bothering her._ You _are, you idiot, or rather your stupid behaviour and stinging words._ That’s _what’s bothering her. She’s just trying to find a way to tell you it’s all over._

She clasped her hands together and pressed her lips. Her face twitched as if she was in great pain. She took a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t understand. Why are you so, so ... aren’t you angry with me?’ she finally managed; her voice sounded tense and tormented and very scared. ‘I can’t blame you if you are,’ she added nearly audible.

This was the last thing he thought she would come up with. He was dumbstruck and for a few moments he didn’t know what to say. He, angry with _her_?! ‘Why in the name of all that’s considered holy should I be angry with you??’

When she looked up her eyes were filled with tears. ‘I yelled at you, didn’t want to hear your intentions and motivations, I said the most terrible things – ‘

‘Marian – ‘

‘I called you a coward!’

‘I _was_ a coward.’

‘No!’ she cried out, vehemently. ‘You wanted to protect me, you set off to find that woman to prevent she would harm me. You were willing to give up your life and liberty for me and I called you a coward!’ By now the tears were streaming freely down her face.

He bent towards her and took her hands in his. ‘Marian, please look at me.’ When she did he was deeply moved by the expression of sadness and despair on her face. ‘How can I be angry with you? You didn’t do anything wrong. As a matter of fact, I feared _you_ would be the one being furious. I wasn’t thinking straight the moment I ran out of that tavern. I hurt you. That regrets me more than I can say.’

She shook her head, her lips trembled. ‘All the time I was only occupied by my own trepidations and always you were there for me.’ She swallowed hard and tried heroically but in vain to stop her tears from gathering. ‘And the moment you get pestered by your past, I start screaming at you instead of being supportive.’

He tugged at her hands and she rose from the chair to sit down next to him. He cupped her face and wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. His lips brushed against hers. ‘Please, love, don’t cry,’ he whispered. ‘You’re being completely unfair, stop blaming yourself. You have been more than supportive every time I needed you.’ He put his arms around her and she laid her head on his shoulder, leaning into him.

‘When I found you, I thought you were ... I thought I lost you,’ she croaked. ‘And that the last moments I saw you, had been spent on a stupid fight and horrible words.’ He felt the shuddering of her body every time she took a breath. Gently he stroked her back and pulled his fingers through her tangled hair in an attempt to calm her down.

‘Are you leaving again?’ she sniffed after a few minutes.

Shocked by her question, he tilted her face and looked into her eyes. ‘No. I’ll never leave you again. I was a fool to do so.’ He paused for a moment and then continued in a soft tone, ‘The last thing I saw before I thought I passed away, was your face. Your wonderful smile, your radiant eyes. I even imagined I felt your touch. I thought it was the last thing I would sense before I died and I was in peace.’ He tenderly kissed her. ‘I can’t live without you, I never should have left in the first place.’ He kissed her once more. ‘I realised in that cage how much you mean to me. You have become a part of me, the most significant part.’

Marian took in his words with an enormous relief and growing happiness. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t reject her. And much more important, he was alive and awake and whole. Just a few hours ago she would have given anything for that. She embraced him and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his intoxicating scent of wild forest and sun stroked earth. She rubbed her cheek against his warm living skin and with the outflow of the anxiety and nervous tension, she felt the first pinpricks of arousal teasing her centre. She realized that now he turned out to be alive and still hers, she wanted badly to make love to him as an ultimate verification that this was all real.

Her hot breath swirled down his throat and he heard the subtle change in how she took in air, how it altered from fear and grief into want. He sensed a sudden and forceful twang of desire himself, a deep desire for her. He snuggled her neck and his mouth started to wander down her neck and collarbone, softly nibbling and biting, leaving pink spots in its wake. She closed her eyes when his hands shoved her shirt over her shoulders and trailed over her naked skin. He set her on fire with his touch.

‘Are you up to this?’ she whispered. ‘You’ve hardly recovered – ‘

He silenced her by licking her earlobe with the tip of his tongue, making her shiver. ‘I yearn for you,’ he said hoarsely and the sound of his low voice, composed out of rough velvet and molten dark sugar, almost undid her, ‘I’m more than up to this. Would you turn me away?’

‘No,’ she gasped and stopped breathing all together when his tongue explored her ear shell, leaving her quivering like a powerless leaf in a storm, completely at the mercy of the elements. With an eager motion, he relieved her of the thin garment and at the same time removed her breast band. He took her with him in his arms when he lay back on the bed and stooped over her body. She tugged at his shirt and he was all too happy to get rid of it. His lips returned to her neck, nuzzling her skin, travelled down her throat to her breasts and closed around a nipple, making her moan after she’d found her breath again. His hands trailed down her frame, following her curves, fondling her soft, warm body. His fingertips worshipped her abdomen, her sides, her hips and ended up drawing circles on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He made short work of her smalls and revelled in her exited reaction. When he reached for her moist folds she arched her back and uttered a throaty grunt.

‘Don’t stop,’ she panted, ‘please don’t stop.’

‘I live to please,’ he murmured and softly dragged his lips and tongue along her breasts. He pushed tantalisingly slow a finger into her inviting and craving centre and at the same time started to stimulate her sensitive nub. Her body responded with an eagerness that even overwhelmed herself. She went taut as a bowstring when her whole body started to tingle and after that seemed to get filled with liquid electricity. Within merely moments she became a shuddering whirlpool of ecstasy while every sinew added to this crushing orgasm. It seemed to take ages before she finally descended from her height.

‘I love you,’ she wept, desperately clutching on to him, ‘I love you so much.’

He held her in his arms and kissed away her new but this time liberating tears. ‘And I love you,’ he breathed.

When she at last had come to her senses she flipped him and put her hands on his chest. His ribs were still tender but so was she. Her fingers caressed his skin with a teasing lightness and feathered over his flat nipples. She stooped over him to catch his mouth in a scorching kiss. Their tongues twirled hungrily around each other and he buried his fingers in the flesh of her hips. Her hands moved down his torso, as did her greedy mouth, peppering him with soft kisses, until she reached her goal. She ripped off his smallclothes and flicked her tongue over his exposed swollen tip. She closed her lips around it with a strong grip and slowly started to suck him, taking him in deep. He let out a tormented cry and called out her name, followed by a string of incomprehensible Tevene words while she continued her ministrations in an enticing slow way. When he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, she abandoned his shaft with one last long lick. She placed wet kisses on his groin, his abdomen, his chest, finding her way to his mouth again. She straddled him and took his hardened length in her hand, guiding him inside her wet, tight sheath while her tongue again entered his mouth. The both gasped out loud, breathing in each other’s air. She framed his face and rested her cheek against his, her erect nipples touched his chest. As at the first time they made love, they lay still for one perfect moment, connected in more than one way. The only sound was their fast shallow, irregular breathing.

And then something amazing and incomprehensible happened.

Behind his closed eyes he suddenly could see her mind flashing up in bright unknown, indescribable colours, twirling like a ribbon in a playful breeze, dancing towards him, touching him, intertwining with him. It seemed that as if he would reach for it, he could literally make contact with her psyche, her mere essence of being, that he could trace his fingers along her inner self. He blended with her, in an all-embracing fusion, a melting of two persons becoming one entity. It was so frighting at first that he almost recoiled. But when he dared to yield to this astonishing and marvellous sensation, he felt pure love and devotion, near to a religious and sacred experience. As a revelation. He completely succumbed to it, without reservations.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible, feeling every inch of her naked skin against his. His lips found the spot behind her ear and he drank in her feminine perfume of arousal. He felt her drenched centre in a forceful clasp around him and then she started to move. Every contact with her, every feeling seemed to get enlarged. He lost himself entirely when she pushed him deeper inside her with every thrust.                         

‘Mea carea, voltiatem pendutas in tua,’ he groaned, ‘cupiadem sa fortatim. Tue edderem per agaterias.’

She didn’t know what his words meant; nevertheless, she understood without any trouble the meaning of every syllable when his voice entered her ears and filled her very essence, her very being, her very existence. He _was_ her existence. He totally filled her in every way possible, occupied her body and soul and spirit. When the overwhelming feeling hit her, she almost pulled away out of pure mortal fear of what was happening. But when she found the courage to surrender to it, she got drenched with an enormous feeling of utmost completion. She had never experienced something like this before, not even with him. She could feel what he felt, see into his mind and she found nothing but love and dedication.

When he exploded, he helplessly clung onto her while she again got swept away. Wide eyed she collapsed on his chest, struggling for breath and sanity. Forcefully he held on to her, all lingering pain forgotten. After a while he turned onto his side, keeping her close to him. For a long time, they lay in each other’s intense embrace, limbs entangled, both unable to say anything. A few times he tried to speak but he couldn’t find the proper words, or any words at all to express what he had sensed. So, he stayed silent but for the ragged breathing that only slowly evened out.

After he was able to think again, he remembered the first time he and Marian made love, how his memories almost had driven him away from her, had threatened to take the best of him, to deny her. He shuddered at the remembrance. This experience had almost been the same. His memories hadn’t returned – he still had flashes, some lingered, most fled but he no longer feared them.

No, this had been different. Much more powerful. He couldn’t find words for it. Overwhelming didn’t start to express this sensation. Enchantment, perhaps, but that didn’t cover what he felt either. Other than their first time together, he didn’t have the urge to flee and hide, rather the opposite. This, after he had rapidly conquered the panic that had made a good effort to choke him, only emphasized how he completely lost himself in her, eagerly submitted to her. He belonged to her and she to him.

They were one.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know, Fenris's words don't exist in any language; I just made them up. I've tried to avoid Latin words and I can only hope they could have been Tevene. In English, it would have sound like: 'My beloved, I want to drown in you, I love you so much, I'm yours forever.'
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

Enchantment Chapter 26

-

It took quite a long time before the both of them regained their senses; they just lay wordlessly in each other’s arms, trying to recuperate from what they had experienced. Fenris had given up attempting to phrase or even order his swirling thoughts and mystified feelings, so he decided to switch to another topic. When he spoke, his voice sounded a little rough. ‘Tell me what happened last night, I can’t recall a thing.’

Marian laughed soundlessly. ‘I’m hardly amazed, considering the shape you were in when I found you.’ She shivered slightly at the remembrance and suppressed a sob. Fenris let his hand softly wander over the skin of her back to soothe her and felt her relax under his gentle touch. She smiled against his chest. ‘Would you believe we had the assistance of an elven army? A very disciplined and skilled one at that.’

He moved his hand from her back to cup her chin, making her to meet his eyes. A small glimmer danced in the silvery green. ‘Let me guess, the slaver hunters from the Alienage.’

She looked somewhat taken aback. ‘You know about them?’ She sounded almost disappointed as if he had spoiled some kind of surprise.

He shot her a wan smile. ‘Indeed. I heard about their existence not long before everything went wrong, due to my own stupidity.’

‘Please Fenris, don’t start that again.’

Lightly he tapped her nose. ‘I mean, I let myself lure into a trap as easily as some dim-witted fool, like a naive amateur. You’d think I should know better after all those years of being hunted.’

‘Hm. I won’t argue with that, for the time being,’ she smirked, teasingly.

They sat up; Fenris rested against the headboard and pulled her into his arms. He felt the need of keeping her as close as possible after what happened a short time ago. Hawke took a breath and started to relate what had happened last night from the moment he disappeared. She told about Zevran’s and Isabela’s frantic search, the treachery of the bartender, the mustering of the elves, the fierce battle on the ship, how she had found him lingering on the threshold of the Void and how they finally had managed to get him in this bed in the Royal Palace. She had to pause a few times to bite back tears, especially when she described the fragile condition he was in when she had located him. He listened to her without an interruption, even when her voice faltered; wordlessly he just caressed her.

After she was finished, Fenris stayed silent for a time while his fingers played absently with Marian’s honey coloured hair. ‘You’ve gone even through more trouble than I already imagined.’

‘I wouldn’t have accomplished anything without the others,’ she protested. ‘They deserve your credit as much as I do.’

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘By now I believe you would have stormed that ship on your own if you had had to, but you are right.’ He planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘So, I would like to visit the Alienage to personally thank the elves who have so gracefully contributed to my liberation.’

‘I’m sure we can find a moment in an undoubtedly busy day to do that,’ she agreed.

‘No, I want to go now.’

She shifted to face him ‘Now?’ she said astonished. ‘Even before breakfast?’

‘Yes.’

Even before breakfast, even before they would encounter someone else. _Especially_ before they would encounter someone else. He needed to think and he hoped the walk to the Alienage would provide him with the time and opportunity to do just that. It was not all an excuse; he really did want to express his thankfulness. Besides that, he was curious to meet a bunch of elves who had set out to become slaver hunters, an ambition he had never heard of before.

And so, after he and Hawke got dressed and had slipped unseen from the palace, they walked through Denerim in the still early morning. They didn’t speak much and when they did, it was only to comment on the weather that finally had cleared up, or on the cheerful determination with which the townsfolk busied themselves to rebuild their city. They kept their deeper thoughts to themselves; those spiralled and swivelled through their minds, yet too incomprehensible and tender to put into words. They approached the small street that led to the Alienage. The moment they passed the gates, Fenris halted in amazement.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ he said, looking around and raising his brows in disbelief.

Hawke grinned, she had anticipated this. To be honest, she also was surprised. Again. The place looked as pleasant as at the night before; it was even more astonishing in daylight. The colourful hues in which the houses were painted, for instance, helped to brighten up her still brittle mood. ‘I presume this is a rhetorical question since it seems to me that the number of elves hanging around is at least some indication that this is their environment.’

‘Yes, I noticed. But this place is nothing like, well, like an Alienage.’

‘Tsk Fenris, what kind of prejudice is this?’ she berated him playfully. ‘Do you really think so low of your own kind that you’re surprised they could manage to make a place look tidy, cosy and pleasant to live in?’

‘My kind? I wasn’t born and raised in an Alienage,’ he reacted prickly without even thinking. He immediately regretted his rash words. Hawke pressed her lips to bite back a sharp retort. He didn’t deserve a scolding; he had been through too much to even receive a comment on his nasty sounding words. A short silence fell. ‘That – sounded rather arrogantly, didn’t it,’ Fenris said, looking somewhat ashamed. ‘It wasn’t meant that way, it came out totally wrong. Besides that, I don’t even know whether it is true or not. I’m just – stunned I suppose.’ _And apparently still too muddled to think clearly. Take care._

Marian understood that feeling. ‘You always say you hate coming to the Alienage in Kirkwall.’ She carefully avoided the lost-memories-issue, merely because she had had enough emotions to cope with for one morning, as had he, she knew for sure. ‘I thought you would be pleased to see it doesn’t always have to be like that.’

‘I am, I just didn’t expect it.’ He took in the neat houses, the paved alleys and the small thriving gardens. ‘You must agree with me that this is probably the only Alienage in Thedas that doesn’t look like a depressing slum.’

‘I’m certain you’re right although, luckily, I don’t know them all. Now let’s go and look for Soris.’

They found the elven commander next to the Vhenadahl Tree, agitatedly entangled in a conversation with Shianni who seemed to hold court at the place. From a distance it looked as if they were having a serious quarrel, until Soris burst out in a merry laugh. They stopped talking when they saw their two visitors approach. Shianni turned to face them and looked Fenris up and down.

‘So, this is the elf the fuss was all about,’ she said with a crooked smile before Hawke even had the chance to introduce him. ‘Can’t say I blame you. He looks cute enough. If he wasn’t spoken for I’d have him any time.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously at those facetiously words. Fenris’s eyes flew open and it was all Hawke could do to keep a straight face. She stifled a grin. She had met the elven woman before; perhaps she should have warned Fenris she didn’t mince her words and couldn’t care less if someone got insulted or befuddled in the process.

Fenris re-found his bearing within a few heartbeats – he was used to Isabela’s behaviour, after all. He cleared his throat, not entirely sure if he should be offended by the Hahren’s flippant remark or had to smile about it. Frankly, he still had to get used to the fact women – and even men – found him attractive, despite Marian’s frequently uttered admiration and Isabela’s constant unmistakable hints. He gave Shianni an unreadable look. ‘As long as you are aware of the fact that I am indeed spoken for, I won’t protest,’ he responded, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. ‘But I did not come here to harvest comments about my appearance. I simply wanted to show my gratitude.’ 

‘Don’t thank me,’ Shianni said bluntly. ‘Thank Soris and his hot-headed youngsters.’

Fenris decided to go for the smile, making the Hahren´s knees more wobbly than she liked to admit, and turned to Soris. ‘I hope none of your warriors has died or sustained an injury because of me. For what I’ve heard they did an amazing job.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Soris assured him, ‘we lost no one and the few injuries were nothing more but some bruises and scratches. You yourself suffered much worse. I must say I’m amazed to see you’re up and about this fast. When they carried you back to the palace last night, you seemed more dead than alive.’

‘I was,’ Fenris admitted, ‘but Wynne is a wonderful healer.’

‘So it seems,’ Shianni reacted. ‘And King Alistair was so generous as to send his soldiers to relieve our elves. Humans acting towards elves in this way wasn’t heard of in this place a year ago. Back then we got abused, were raped and hauled off into slavery without anyone lifting a finger.’

Hawke glanced at her with a lopsided smile. ‘According to Wynne, much of the change in attitude is due to your persistent and stubborn behaviour.’

The Hahren burst out laughing. ‘I believe I taught them a thing or two about respect, yes. And I’m glad to find my lessons haven’t fallen on deaf ears. Would you care for some breakfast?’

They accepted and spent a pleasant hour eating and drinking under the Vhenadahl Tree, among a large group of enthusiastic elves that had joined them and kept rattling about the battle on the merchant ship, turning every participant into a hero.

 

After they took their leave, Fenris and Marian ambled back to the palace. None of them were too eager to make haste, so they took the long way back. As soon as they were crossing the bridge over the river Drakon, he took her hand in his and halted. She looked quizzically at him but said nothing. He desperately wanted to get the subject that had been wandering through his head all morning off his chest, but didn’t know how to bring it up. Finally he mustered his courage and cleared his throat. ‘Did you notice anything peculiar this morning when we, when we,’ he got lost in his words and felt utterly stupid. He turned to watch the river that at this point lazily was covering the last stage of the journey to the Amaranthine Ocean. He felt frustrated with himself. His left hand still held Hawke’s; he rested the right one on the parapet.

‘Made love? Devoured each other? Unless you prefer ravished? I know I do.’ She caught his glance and backed down. She nervously worried her lip. Trying to make light of this wouldn’t work, nor for him and neither for her. She damned well knew what he was referring to. ‘Sorry. Got carried away. Peculiar you say? That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. Extraordinary doesn’t even start to describe it.’ She smiled wanly.

‘So you felt it too?’ he asked warily. He let out a shivering breath. ‘I was starting to wonder if I imagined it.’

Marian snorted. ‘If you’re capable of imagining such things, you could teach Varric a thing or two about using one’s fantasy. He would gladly sacrifice a ream of his costly parchment to learn your secret.’

Fenris laughed out loud, though a bit shakily. ‘I bet the dwarf would sacrifice even his precious chest hair to hear this story.’ He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. ‘It was ... unnerving... He didn’t have to open his eyes to see her strained expression, and commenced, ‘At first. And then it turned into something ... out if this world.’ He heard her take in a trembling breath. He snapped his eyes open and turned to her. ‘Let me put it this way, you won’t have to say you love me. Not because I know, not because I can feel it, but because I _saw_ it. Literarily.’

She swallowed and hesitantly stepped closer to him. ‘I know what you mean,’ she whispered.

‘There was no difference between us any longer. There was no you or I, there was ...’ he struggled, ‘just one spirit.’ He let go of the parapet and framed her face. ‘Your mind entangled with mine and I can truly not say where mine began and yours ended. Yes, I was scared to death but then became – exalted.’

Her beautiful sapphire eyes glistened. ‘It felt like you blended with me, like our minds melted together,’ she assented breathlessly. ‘I too was absolutely terrified but when I allowed myself to give in to it, it was the most wonderful thing I ever experienced.’

He embraced her and kissed her tenderly. ‘So what happened?’ he murmured on her lips.

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. He encircled her firmer and she buried her face in his shoulder, holding him tightly.

They started walking again; he put his arm around her shoulder and she laid hers around his waist. After a couple of paces he dared to ask, ‘What did Wynne do to me?’

Marian shrugged. ‘Healing you, as far as I know. Nothing more, certainly nothing less.’

‘No strange rituals? No summoning of – whatever she would call upon?’ Even he could not believe the Fereldan First Enchanter would involve herself with demons and blood magic.

‘Absolutely not. I saw just the bluish light I’m familiar with. And I can’t imagine Wynne meddling with any kind of dark art whatsoever. The only things you can invoke are demons. I can hardly believe they would cause something like – like,’ she made a helpless gesture with her free hand.

‘What about Anders and that Justice figure?’

‘He didn’t exactly _summon_ him, as far as I understand.’

Fenris pondered that. ‘Perhaps it was nothing more than some kind of aftermath of almost dying,’ he concluded. He cast her a sidelong glance. ‘And maybe I affected you, or you were so relieved to find me alive and well the same happened to you.’ He smiled affectionately and squeezed her shoulder.

She returned the smile. ‘It’s as good an explanation as any other. For now.’

But they both knew there was more to it. Far more.

-

Elissa Cousland was up early, as usual. Even after all the unexpected events of the past night. When she got out of bed she kissed her husband lightly on his cheek and whispered in his ear, ‘See you later, sleepyhead,’ which earned her an incomprehensible grumble. But, also as usual, Alistair managed to catch her around her waist to pull her back onto the bed and steal another, heated kiss before he turned onto his stomach and hid his face in the pillows with a grunted, ‘You’re completely crazy, you know.’

She chortled, ‘About you. Yes I know.’ It had become their private morning ritual since she had returned from Vigil’s Keep and she still hadn’t grown tired of it.

She wasn’t a natural early riser, she was the first to admit, but her father hadn’t put up with laziness, as he had called it. And after she became a Grey Warden, she had had little chance to spend her mornings in bed. Or rather, whatever sleep she could get wasn’t spent in a bed at all for a long time. And being the Commander in Vigil’s Keep had given her very little opportunity to sleep late either. So she had grown accustomed to wake long before breakfast. She headed for the small courtyard adjacent to the lovely ornamental garden to practice her battle moves. She had insisted on that courtyard with the dummies to attack and she enjoyed the early morning exercise in all quiet. She was clad in her armour and armed with two unadorned but beautifully balanced daggers; every morning she practiced because she dreaded her skills would dwindle, now she had returned to Denerim, with no Darkspawn to fight. With nothing or no one to fight, in fact, besides the droning advisers of the Crown and the boring ambassadors of varying countries. They, however, she could not fight in the traditional way, how much she often wanted to. Honestly, she more than once contemplated a slap around the ears or a good kick in the butt would bring them all to their senses. She sometimes wondered how Alistair coped with it without going completely mental. She admired him for it. After all, he hadn’t exactly been tripping over his feet to get the job. That was one of the reasons she let him enjoy his time of staying in bed a little longer. But one never knew when an attack would come, deadly danger would arise or war would break out. So she wanted to keep her skills honed.

She crossed the garden and to her bemusement saw Wynne sitting on the bench next to the pond. She’d almost overlooked the First Enchanter; she was sitting very still, half hidden by a weeping willow, her eyes closed. Elissa halted.

‘Wynne?’ she said hesitantly. There was no response. Alarmed, the Queen rushed over to her and laid a hand on the elderly woman’s shoulder. Wynne’s eyes flew open.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said with a sigh. A faint smile appeared on her face but Elissa wasn’t fooled.

‘What’s wrong? What are you doing here on this early hour?’ she pressed. ‘You should be in bed, considering all the exertions you’ve been through last night. You need your rest!’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Wynne replied. ‘I checked on Fenris and after I found he was doing well, I decided to come here. The garden, and especially the pond, is lovely at this time of the day. A balm for the mind. Don’t worry about me, my Queen.’

‘Don’t call me that, you’re one of my best friends! I’m still Elissa, that stubborn girl who thought to end the Blight on the spot.’

Wynne chuckled softly. ‘As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what you did.’

Elissa sat down next to her. ‘That is rubbish and you know it. I would have accomplished nothing without my friends.’

‘No one would, child,’ Wynne said wearily. Above them in the weeping willow, a blackbird started to sing and they both kept silent for a while to listen to the delicate and yet forceful tremolos.

Elissa watched the First Enchanter closely and to her dismay suddenly noticed lines in her face that hadn’t been there the other day. She was looking extremely pale and there were dark shadows under her eyes. She looked at least five years older. A nasty suspicion began to rise.

She had been startled, to say the least, to be dragged out of her bed last night by no one less than Zevran. He had at that moment forgone his usual charming and seductive exposure, which had startled her even more. After his brief explanation, came a flurry of preparing guestrooms, organizing refreshments, shouting for clean towels and water. And all that in the dead of night. They suddenly got saddled with a couple of prisoners, one apparently a baker from their own kitchen, and Alistair had called together half of the soldiers at guard-duty in the palace to send them down to the docks. She had hardly had time to wonder about the unknown people that, not much later, hurried through the palace gates. A bunch of elves, a scarcely clad woman she vaguely recognized, a beardless dwarf, a Seeker _(‘A Seeker??’ ‘Yes, a Seeker, I’ll explain later, cara mia’)_ and an extremely tense looking young woman who was practically glued to a badly wounded elf lying on a litter that looked more like a hatch of some sorts. Amidst all the bustle, Zevran had managed to update her, and when the commotion had subsided somewhat she had taken a moment to see how the injured elf was doing. At that time Wynne was still working hard to heal him. She had looked up at her with a tired smile.

‘Don’t strain yourself too much,’ Elissa had warned her

‘If I don’t strain myself now, all of my former efforts will have been in vain,’ Wynne just had said. ‘If I don’t strain myself now, he may die as yet.’ After a short pause she had added, ‘He _may_ die as yet; he’s even worse as I already feared. Please don’t tell Marian Hawke, should you run into her. She’s already on edge. I sent her away to get more lyrium potions.’

‘Is there something I can do for you?’

Wynne had shaken her head. ‘No, my dear. You have enough on your mind; just let me do my work.’

Elissa had gone back to the main hall to organize some more until everyone had had a meal and a bed to sleep in (except for the elves who had returned to the Alienage) and all the prisoners were safely locked up. Only then she had gone back to bed.

‘You mentioned the elf is doing well,’ she now remarked.

‘He is fully recovered.’ The mage stared pensively at the pond. Under the surface a large goldfish was visible, lazily flipping its fins, lying perfectly still as if it was waiting for the first sunbeams to fall on the water.

‘But only a few hours ago you were afraid he wouldn’t make it.’ Elissa sounded anxious. ‘How could he possibly recover that fast?’ The nasty suspicion turned into dead certainty. ‘What have you done, Wynne?!’

‘You know very well what I have done.’

Elissa let out an exasperated grunt. ‘How could you be so foolish! How could you give away something so precious just like that! To someone you hardly know!’

Wynne bristled. ‘Elissa Cousland! I have lived a full and, I hope, well spent life that has been expanded as some kind of gift. That gift is mine to pass on to whom I wish to. And he needs it more than I. They both need it more. How would you have reacted if it had not been Fenris but Alistair dying on that ship?’

The Queen bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. I was only concerned.’ After some consideration she asked, ‘How long do you have left?’

‘I don’t know. I never knew to start with. To be honest, I’m amazed I lived on as long as I did.’

Elissa sagged and blew out a heavy sigh. ‘I can only hope he’s worth it.’

‘I’m fairly sure he is.’

-

Somehow they had ended up in the market square. The place looked a whole lot better in the sunshine but then, what didn’t. The stalls were bright and colourful as were the items on display. A small crowd was strolling along the stands, perusing the wares on sale.

‘We should be more attentive to where we’re going,’ Fenris said, ‘we don’t know this city, after all. We can get lost anytime.’

‘That’s true, but I suppose the inhabitants all know where to find the palace. Big building, royal banners, hard to miss. We can always ask for directions.’ Hawke grinned and threw him an impish glance. ‘Although, I’m well aware men hate asking for directions. They rather get lost and wander for hours in bewilderment, totally disorientated. Tell me, why is that? Your masculine pride getting in the way?’

‘Perhaps we are just too cautious to throw ourselves at the mercy of some ill-willed miscreant that directs us in the way of his colleagues, eager to rob us,’ he answered wryly. ‘Tell me, why are you women so gullible?’

‘I suppose we don’t see an enemy in every helpful citizen,’ Marian laughed. ‘Since we’re here, we might as well have a look around.’

‘For what? You already purchased new armour and daggers back in Kirkwall.’

‘There are more things to behold and admire than armour and weapons in a market, Fenris, you should know that. And – oh! Antivan olives!’ she exclaimed delighted, tugging at his waist. She more or less dragged him towards a stall with a green and red striped awning and he noticed various kinds of delicacies trying to catch the attention and raise the appetite of the passers-by. They certainly called out to Hawke. ‘Oh, and that special Orlesian blue cheese and look! Dried garlic sausage from the Anderfells!’

A corner of his mouth lifted. She always acted like a child in a candy shop when she was around her favourite titbits. He could almost hear her mouth-watering. ‘Marian, please, you just had breakfast! Don’t tell me you’re hungry again.’

She nudged him lightly. ‘You know damn well I can’t resist these delicious temptations, hunger or no.’

‘I bought them for you once myself,’ he wanted to bring into memory but contained the words the moment they bubbled up. He didn’t want to hint at the awful occurrences that had made him do that. Instead he said, ‘Most women like chocolate or confections or other sweetmeats.’

‘I don’t,’ she stated happily while she paid the merchant for the jar of olives she had bought. ‘Most women don’t love broody, lyrium infused elves either but I do.’ She tilted her head when she caught his dark scowl and beamed at him. ‘Alright, that was a blatant lie. I know all too well how women look at you. How did Varric put it? Ah yes.’ She cleared her throat and continued in a rather fair impression of the dwarf’s voice, ‘”If your brooding were any more impressive, women would swoon as you passed. They’d have broody babies in your honour.” Really Fenris, you could collect women and start a harem if you put your back – Hmpf.’

The only way to silence her was to slant his lips over hers and kiss her until she was breathless and so he did, in the middle of the market. But, unlike the population of Hightown, the citizens of Denerim hardly took notice of this public demonstration of affection. Let alone they would gawk or look disgusted.

‘Keep this up and we get either arrested or give the whole city something to talk about for years,’ Marian panted when they finally broke the kiss.

‘Or you could ask for directions and I could haul you back to our bedroom,’ he offered. ‘Besides that, I think the Gnawed Noble isn’t that far away.’

‘A very tempting suggestion,’ she agreed, still hanging in his arms, longing for more.

They got interrupted by an urging sound that immediately cooled her down. ‘Miss, missy.’ A known, unwelcome, voice reached her ear. The both turned their heads and faced Brok Igulson. He looked almost guilty. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt but since I came across you, I, er...’ He faltered under their simultaneously murderous glares. He coughed nervously. ‘There is something I want to talk to you about.’

‘You’ve been withholding information?’ Hawke asked coolly, not surprised at all.

But the dwarf fluttered his hands fervently to refute that acquisition. ‘No, I didn’t!’ He deflated somewhat. ‘Well, actually I did but not on purpose.’ He looked around at the crowd milling about. ‘Perhaps it’s better if we speak in my workshop.’

Reluctantly they gave in and followed the runesmith. As soon as they entered the smithy, Brok Igulson dismissed his apprentice, sending him off on some vague errand. When the boy had disappeared, he turned back to them. ‘It was not my intent to keep this away from you. But I was more than a little confused when you suddenly showed up and being dragged out of my workshop by a Seeker didn’t help much to –‘

‘Will you please come to the point,’ Hawke impatiently cut him short.

The dwarf plucked at his bushy black beard. ‘Yes. Yes of course,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s about that mine, you see. The amantium mine.’

‘Go on,’ Hawke encouraged him, although she wasn’t sure she wanted him to really do that. On the other hand, she had heard so many unpleasant things already, what could possibly be worse? Besides that, her curiosity was kindled. Fenris put a hand on her shoulder and she smiled inwardly. It had become a custom, she hearing shocking facts and acting badly to it, he trying to prevent her from killing the messenger. She promised herself to stay calm this time, whatever Brok Igulson might reveal.

‘I hadn’t seen your father for about two years when he suddenly showed up in Lake Calenhad Docks. I think it wasn’t long after your birth.’

Incredulously Marian stared at him. ‘He went back to that place? So close to the Circle? After he ran away? What in the Maker’s name drove him to that madness?!’

‘He wanted to know if I had heard anything from the Legion of the Dead; he had lost every contact with them since his departure to Kirkwall. I was sorry to disappoint him but then again, the Legion have more on their minds than searching for a mythical mine. So your father decided to enter the Deep Roads himself.’

‘How many surprises will that man throw at me over his grave?’ Hawke murmured, perplexed. ‘The Deep Roads? Alone?’

‘He _was_ a very powerful mage and not one to shy away from danger,’ the dwarf said, a little reproachfully. Hawke just impelled him on with an irritated gesture. ‘The next time I met with him was here, in this very workshop, that day he brought you with him and he asked me to forge and enchant that ring on your hand. You know all about that by now.’ Nervously he bit his lip. ‘You must know that the metal adjusts to the bearer. I forgot to tell you that earlier.’

Hawke just looked blank.

Brok Igulson sweated on. ‘I mean, the little ring I forged for the bairn, has extended to fit the finger of a full-grown woman.’ After another look full of dull question marks, he added, ‘One of the characters of amantium is that it can grow or shrink on its own account.’

Involuntarily Marian’s eyes got drawn to the band around her finger. ‘Meaning..?’ she said, hoarsely.

’Like I told you before, the metal seems to have its own mind, like it is some living creature…’

Resolutely Marian slapped her right hand over her left, while giving the dwarf a piercing look. On hindsight she wasn’t eager to know what kind of monstrosity she was carrying around. She very much wished to rip the ring off, but was too afraid for the consequences that action might cause. Instead she said, ‘Spare me the technical details. Just go on with what you wanted to say.’

Brok Igulson grimaced and gave a desperate tug at his beard. ‘I asked Malcolm how his private expedition into the Deep Roads had gone, but he was reluctant to talk about it. He told me, however, that he had considerably broadened the chances of finding the mine.’

Marian frowned. ‘How? Did he plant some posts down there signed with “Help wanted for discovering amantium, finder’s fee promised”?’

Brok Igulson swallowed visibly. ‘He made a pact with some – thing.’

Hawke’s breath hitched. She staggered back and felt Fenris’s hand clamp down on her shoulder. ‘You mean ... a demon?’ she croaked. If that were true, her whole world would come crashing down.

‘No missy. With some Darkspawn.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I can recognize a cliff-hanger when I see one ... sorry about that. Nevertheless, I hope you still like this story. Please throw me a comment if you do... (or don't, for that matter.)
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos!


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

-

Hawke kept on breathing, much to her own amazement. She took in large gulps of air and in the meantime she felt Fenris’s hand reassuringly pressing down on her shoulder. Both hands, she realized, on both shoulders. She leant slightly back to feel his presence even more intensely; his lanky, supple, muscular body. Warm and comforting and supportive. And unbelievably beautifully sculptured, she mused absentmindedly, a walking piece of exquisite art. But above all a steady rock in her – again – raging turmoil. And she knew for certain that she only had to reach out to feel his spirit and mind again in the way she had experienced it this very morning. She could sense how he enveloped her in more than one way. He moved his arms to encircle her waist and only now she realized her legs were starting to give way. She breathed some more and concentrated on the wonderful elf who was the only reason she was still standing. And more or less reasoning. She closed her eyes for a moment and collected herself. When she spoke, her voice almost sounded normal, although it felt like her brain was hovering somewhere above her in the air.

‘And you thought this wasn’t important enough to share with me?’ she heard herself say to the guarded dwarf who stood before her in the tense way of someone prepared to get out of the way as fast as possible. He was distressfully fidgeting with his fingers, looking cautiously, if not afraid, at her.

‘I told you, I’d forgotten it.’

‘Really? Forgotten such an important part of information?’ She laughed mirthlessly. It sounded hollow. ‘My father making a pact with Darkspawn. Maker help me. A good thing he never knew how those filthy creatures drove us out of our home and killed his youngest daughter and forced his son to become a Grey Warden.’ _How far had he been willing to go to obtain the priceless amantium? What had he done? What had he offered, or sacrificed?_ She remembered her thoughts from – how long was it anyway? A day. Only a day ago. It seemed like a lifetime. She was plainly conscious of Fenris’s arms holding her around her waist. She mused, in a faraway but still clear corner of her mind, he was not only trying to keep her from losing her equilibrium, but also to prevent her from attacking the dwarf who seemed to shrink ever more under her undoubtedly aggressive piercing glance. _Hold yourself together, damn it. Nothing of this is the dwarf’s fault._

Another thought hit her in the mayhem that presently represented her thoughts. ‘And going back to Lake Calenhad? My mother must have had a heart attack!’

‘I doubt if he told her where he was headed.’ The runesmith looked very strained. ‘I’m sorry, miss, I never wanted to upset you.’

_If you are attached to your innards, you choose your next words very carefully now,_ Fenris thought, _there’s only so much I can do._ He felt the air escaping from Marian’s lungs and shortly after that how she managed to stand without his support. He didn’t change his position, however, but kept his arms around her. He was afraid one wrong move would drive her over the edge. But then she put her hand on his and squeezed it lightly as if to reassure him.

‘Good.’ She cleared her throat. Time to become pragmatic. ‘What kind of Darkspawn are we talking about here? I take it you’re not hinting at an Archdemon?’

Brok Igulson almost jumped. ‘Great Ancestors I hope not!’ He looked panicked but then calmed down. ‘No. I can’t imagine that; your father assured me there was no danger involved,’ he said, eyeing her warily.

‘Indeed,’ Hawke reacted almost unnaturally calm, ‘because _of course_ mingling with Darkspawn never provokes any danger.’ She plastered a smile upon her face; she wanted very hard not to blame the messenger this time. Let alone murder him. It was difficult. ‘Alright, so let’s assume my father didn’t drag an Archdemon into his personal affairs.’ She made a face. _Personal affairs_? It began to look more and more like he had put the whole world upside down to get what he wanted. ‘I doubt such a bastard would have listened anyway. But I can hardly believe he approached an average genlock or hurlock to make a pact with. Besides the fact they’re not able to reason, they carry no importance. It’s quite a puzzle.’ Intensely she took him in. ‘Whether he told you anything or not, you must have your own thoughts about what he has done. As I understand, you knew him well.’

The runesmith looked uncomfortable. He grimaced and at the same time tried not to. It looked rather manically. ‘To be honest, I reacted as shocked as you. I mean, I take it that conversing with Darkspawn must be no small feat, let alone make them promise something and keep them to that promise. I was scared he did something very stupid. Am still.’

‘You don’t say,’ Fenris murmured. He had removed his arms from Marian’s body and laid a hand against the small of her back instead, praying with all his might she would succeed in holding on to her steady self-control.

‘I, er, I never encountered a Dark Spawn myself but I’ve heard they have emissaries ..?’ the dwarf hesitantly went on. ‘Perhaps he searched one of those out?’

Hawke cocked her brow and shot the dwarf an extremely sarcastic smile. The runesmith instinctively shrank back. ‘Ah yes, the emissaries. We met quite a lot of them in the Deep Roads. Intriguing creatures. They didn’t strike me as particularly eloquent, though. They mostly roared incomprehensible words – in lack of a better expression – before we killed them. If my father succeeded in having a conversation with one of those creatures, let alone in making a pact with them, he wasn’t just a damn good mage but a mighty miracle worker as well. And stop looking at me as if I’m going to bite you.’

Brok Igulson very much hoped she indeed wouldn’t. Disturbing impressions of her attacking his throat and biting through his jugular suddenly popped up in his mind. He suppressed a shudder and composed himself. How frightening she might be, Malcolm’s daughter was definitely not a vampire or a werewolf. Probably just scared and troubled and who could blame her? ‘Whatever the case, somehow he did find a Darkspawn that was, apparently, intelligent enough to understand his intent. And somehow promised to help him with his quest to find the amantium. That map you showed me ... it could be he made another copy and gave it to that particular Darkspawn. It would at least explain why it turned up so far from Ferelden.’

Hawke nodded thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her index finger. ‘You could be right. Though it tells us nothing about what or who he encountered or sought out.’ She grunted frustrated. ‘So, tell me, what kind of deal do you think are we speaking of? The “I give you my soul in return for the precious metal” kind of deal or did he simply promise to teach them to read and write? Or perhaps enough of the etiquette to attend an Orlesian dinner party without disturbing the crowd?’ she added ironically. The dwarf failed to catch the jest.

 ‘I truly don’t know miss, he didn’t want to tell me. And I don’t think Darkspawn are interested in Orlesian etiquette or dinner parties.’ Both Marian and Fenris rolled their eyes. The runesmith failed to catch that one too. ‘And believe me, after that story and the other one about you and your powerful magic and you yourself being the evidence of that statement by rekindling my furnace, I had more than enough to keep me awake at night for several years.’

Hawke could sympathise.

 ‘Don’t you want to sit down, miss?’ Brok Igulson realized he should have asked that before this uneasy talk. He gestured at a wooden stool but Hawke shook her head.

‘No, thank you. Are you certain this is all the information you have? Really all the information? No more surprises?’

‘You must believe me, miss.’ Brok Igulson waved his hands passionately. And then buried them in his bushy beard. He almost tore the hair off his face. ‘This is all I can tell you. Your father fell silent after he said that much. I mean, about the Darkspawn and about you. I forged the piece of amantium into a ring. I tried vainly to enchant it. I handed the thing to him. He took you by the hand and left. I never saw him again.’ The dwarf sounded pleadingly; apparently he was not totally convinced she wouldn’t pounce upon him to tear his throat out as yet.

Hawke sighed. ‘I understand,’ she said to his great relief, ‘but if you remember anything else worthwhile, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’m staying at the palace; apparently I’ve grown important,’ she grimaced cynically.

Fenris took her arm in a gentle grip and escorted her out of the smithy.

The moment the door closed behind them, Brok Igulson ran to the little kitchen behind his workshop, dived into a cabinet and retrieved a bottle of very rare Orlesian cognac he kept there for emergency cases. He decided this was one of those occasions. Only after he had taken a large swig of the strong liquor, he started to calm down somewhat.

-

They stepped outside and Hawke squinted against the bright sunlight. She stood still for a moment to gather her wits.

‘I must say, you handled that well,’ Fenris said, as neutral as possible.

Hawke made a sarcastic snorting sound. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice in receiving shocking news of late, I’m getting used to it. I confess, though, I very badly wanted to wring his dwarven neck. But what good would have done me that.’ She blew out some air. ‘I can hardly blame the dwarf. My father has turned into an even bigger conundrum and not a pleasant one at that. With every sliver of information I hear, he becomes more dangerous. Dead or not. I fear where it might end.’ She twisted her face. ‘I don’t know him anymore. I thought he was a loving and caring husband and father and a devoted physician. But the further we dig into his past, the more of a dark side gets revealed that I didn’t know existed.’

Fenris nodded understanding. ‘It’s almost as if someone produced the irrefutable proof that Danarius, in fact, has always been a benevolent benefactor and only I fail to see it.’

Hawke had to laugh at that. ‘I suppose that would cause the same confusion. What an unnerving thought!’ She became serious again. ‘I don’t want Wynne or Berran to know about this, not yet. I’ve had enough for one day. More than enough.’

Lightly Fenris touched her hand. ‘That’s all right. We don’t have to tell them.’

“We _will_ have to tell them, I fear, but please not now. Let’s wait a little longer.’ _Like forever._

Fenris agreed and he showed it with a loving kiss on her forehead. ‘Í think we have to go back to the palace. If we stay away much longer, I’m afraid they will send out a search party.’

Hawke laughed once more. ‘The thought of half of the palace frantically trying to find us, is somehow rather appealing,’ she giggled.

As a matter of fact, there _was_ some kind of search party. They stumbled upon him not far from the palace. ‘Care to explain why you disappeared without a word?’ the search party demanded. ‘I had already dreadful images of yet another abduction and imprisonment and bad intended slavers.’

‘Are there any other kind?’ Hawke said sweetly and Varric glowered ominously at her.

‘Don’t make light of this, madam, I was genuinely concerned. I had a very troubled night and I don’t intend to go through all that commotion again. And neither does Bianca. Now, let’s get back to the palace and have a decent breakfast.’ He turned on his heels.

‘I understand you haven’t had your morning ale yet,’ Fenris concluded.

‘And what brought you to that bright deduction, Messere Not That Broody Anymore?’

‘You’re grumpier than Isabela being forced to be chaste for a week,’ the elf grinned.

‘So you’re a funny elf,’ Varric repeated with a twist to Fenris’s answer on his comment back in Kirkwall about the elf’s beardless face.

‘We already had breakfast,’ Hawke said while they passed the palace gates.

‘Why am I not surprised,’ the dwarf groused. Hawke resolutely grabbed his arm and pushed him into the cavernous kitchen at the left of the entrance. ‘One ale for the dwarf,’ she called out, ‘and quick, it’s an emergency!’

There were some confused looks but, most importantly, also an order to fetch some ale from the barrels in the cellar.

‘Thanks Hawke, you’re a life saviour,’ Varric sighed relieved when a huge tankard with foaming beer was pushed into his hands. ‘And may I inquire why you’re out of your bed, up and about like a spring chicken?’ the dwarf asked Fenris after he had taken a large draught. ‘Last time I saw you, you were but a hair’s breadth away from being dead.’

‘Wynne’s doing,’ Fenris replied curtly. He was getting tired of that question, the more because he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that there was something very unnatural about his fast recovering.

‘Really? She must be one hell of a healer. Good to have someone like her around.’ He noticed the expression on the elf’s face and decided not to press on. ‘Let’s pay a visit to the breakfast table,’ he said, finishing his pint. _‘You_ may have eaten already, _I_ haven’t. And I bet you still fancy a mug of coffee,’ he smirked at Hawke.

-

‘So, you’re planning to go into the Deep Roads. Without a Grey Warden.’ Elissa Cousland looked pensively.

They were all gathered around a large oaken table laden with bread, cold meat and several kinds of cheeses and fruits. No one, except for Varric, had noticed Hawke and Fenris hadn’t been in the palace earlier this morning; most of them had just assumed they had still been in their bedroom. The dwarf had rather boisterously and a bit accusingly told the others he had found said bedroom empty of any living persons and had been scared to death another rescue operation would have been necessary.

‘You daft man,’ Isabela had giggled, ‘so afraid the heroine of your stories will run into danger without you!’

Varric had grumbled something unintelligible into his ale.

‘I am kind of hoping Sigrun is willing to come with us,’ Hawke now answered the Queen’s remark.

Elissa looked blank. ‘You can always ask.’

‘She _was_ a member of the Dead Legion,’ Alistair said, ‘the Deep Roads are more or less her natural habitat, aren’t they?’ He still looked a bit sleepy but then his eyes snapped wide open. His hand hovered over a plate with cheese. ‘You’re not thinking about going with them, I hope? You’ve only just returned!’

‘And here I was, already enjoying the thought of once again being in your lovely company,’ Zevran wheedled.

Alistair glared daggers at him. ‘I take it you’re not serious..? Otherwise I’m afraid I feel forced to rip your heart out.’ With force he stabbed at a piece of blue veined cheese.

‘Address Fenris,’ Varric said helpfully, ‘he’s from the ripping-hearts-out department. I’m sure he’ll be happy to assist you.’

‘Would I now,’ Fenris reacted dryly, reaching for an apple, ignoring both Alistair’s dark glower and Zevran’s dazzling grin.

‘What brought you in this murderous mood?’ Hawke informed, sipping her coffee.

‘Must I explain again? Getting up far too early after an eventful night, being shocked to the bone because of the absence of our leader and a certain elf and no ale available. That more or less covers it.’ The small wink he gave her made clear he wasn’t serious at all, just playing some little game.

She decided to play along. ‘Exaggerating is _your_ speciality. And you should have gone to the kitchen first. You’d be handling the situation a lot better with your morning drink in time.’

‘I hate kitchens. Too much fussing going on.’

’Shut up, dwarf, and drink your pint,’ Marian said straight-faced.

The King and Queen looked amused, although somewhat bewildered, from the human to the dwarf and back. ‘Is this normal behaviour?’ Elissa informed.

‘For a morning like this? Yes. Totally normal,’ Isabela responded. She happily added a generous amount of rum from a little flask to her orange juice. Nothing like a strong Rivaini _andairi_ to start the day.

‘Right. Well, to answer your question, Zevran, I admit I feel tempted, but I will stay here. Like Alistair said, I’ve just returned.’ Elissa threw the Antivan elf a bright smile and at the same time laid a hand upon Alistair’s. Marian suddenly got the feeling the relationship between Alistair and Zevran much looked like the one shared between Fenris and Anders. Full of jealousy and rivalry. She wondered what had happened between the three of them.

Elissa looked at Hawke. ‘So, tell me, when were you planning to leave?’ she asked, interrupting her train of thought.

Before Marian could answer, Wynne chimed in. ‘As shortly as can be arranged. I’d like to see this issue solved as soon as possible.’ Both women turned to the First Enchanter, the Queen with highly concerned eyes, Hawke rather taken aback. She noticed Elissa’s anxious expression but, more importantly, saw the lines and shadows in Wynne’s face. She had definitely done more than merely heal. Something that had drained her completely.

‘I think you need more time to recuperate,’ Fenris interfered before either of the women could utter a word. ‘I’m not quite certain how much strength it took you to heal me, but it must have been a lot. It would not be wise to rush off so soon. I would not ask that from you, no one would.’

Wynne smiled at him. Marian recognised the empathy that he himself sometimes got mistaken with his history as a slave – being attentive had been a way to survive – but she knew for sure it was part of his character. Besides that, she knew he shared her worries.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Elissa reacted determinedly.

Wynne looked annoyed. ‘Oh please, stop treating me as if I’m about to break into pieces.’

‘You should be careful with your strength,’ Zevran put in a word. ‘After all, you are my most favourite signora, I would be devastated if something happened to you.’

Wynne shook her head but she couldn’t suppress the twinkle in her eyes. ‘And you, my dear elf, have always been a notorious flatterer.’

‘Then at least take a boat to Amaranthine instead of travelling on foot,’ Elissa pressed, ‘it’s not that far from the city to Vigil’s Keep.’

Berran’s head shot up at those words; his face wore an expression that lingered somewhere between raging fury and mortal fear. ’I’m not staying on a ship with that, that – _salope_ again,’ he rumbled vehemently, pointing his bread roll accusingly at Isabela. His eyes flared even darker than usual with the awful memory of the trip from Kirkwall to Denerim close in mind.

Isabela looked perfectly innocent. ‘What? What did I do wrong?’ she pouted.

‘What not?’ Varric murmured but he beamed cheerfully when she shot him a threatening look. ‘I must give you we didn’t run short of wailing and whining. It at least broke the monotony of a long sea trip.’

‘Mia bella regina della mare, how shall I put this – ah, you weren’t exactly at your best,’ Zevran tried to smooth the situation in a caramel voice that could melt granite, while he patted her hand.

‘And who could blame me?!’ Isabela dramatically cried out. ‘Sailing on a ship while not being the captain! It would drive anyone insane!’

‘I think we have the solution at hand,’ Elissa said. ‘After all, you have conquered a ship.’

‘Ugh. A bulky, ugly merchant carrier,’ Isabela protested, ‘nothing like an elegant fast brigantine!’

‘Do you want your own ship, Rivaini, or do you not? It’s at least a start for you and a whole lot less of a headache for the rest of us.’

Isabela stared coldly at Varric. ‘You really should have gone to that kitchen first thing this morning, you insufferable dwarf.’

‘But he is right,’ Marian supported Varric and Elissa, ‘in this way you will have a ship to command and we’ll have an easy way to travel.’

‘I will need a crew,’ Isabela reluctantly grumbled, ‘and I mean able men, not some rabble we pick up from the street.’

‘I take it that ship didn’t sail herself?’ Elissa said.

‘You’re not suggesting we can trust the men we’ve slain?’ Berran reacted incredulously. ‘They’re apt to stick a knife in our back the moment we lower our vigilance!’

‘As a matter of fact, the Queen has a point,’ Isabela said grudgingly. ‘It is the pirate way, after all. If you defeat a ship the booty is yours and that includes the hands, that is, the ones you want to keep.’

‘You said yourself these were no pirates!’ Hawke objected

Isabela shrugged. ‘Every sailor has a bit of a pirate in them. Of course I’m not talking about the hired guards.’

‘No,’ Alistair reacted glumly, ‘those are safely put away in the dungeons I wasn’t even aware existed. The only guards on that ship right now, are mine, watching over what seems to be the crew or hands or whatever. Why a simple merchant ship needs so many soldiers boggles the mind.’

‘Like I explained before, Antivan merchants are ferocious about defending their cargo. But we don’t need those guards. It doesn’t take fifty men to sail a ship like that.’ Isabela stood up. ‘Come on, Zevran, let’s go and inspect the tub. I suppose I can always rename her the _Chubby Mermaid_. Let’s see how our crew is doing and how much damage has to be repaired. I promise to report back somewhere today. Honest.’ And with that she waltzed out of the room with Zevran in her trail.

‘Don’t forget your portable jungle,’ Varric called after her. ‘If everything else fails, you can always use the raw materials that structure has in store to rebuild that damn ship!’

‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll use your chest hair to weave a new sail,’ Isabela yelled back, just before she disappeared.

‘She hasn’t changed much, has she,’ Alistair observed, a smile playing around his lips.

‘Neither has he,’ Elissa smirked, ‘they make a nice matching couple ... for as long as it will last, of course.’

‘As a matter of fact, we have a wager going on about that,’ Varric piped up, happily helping himself to his third pint. ‘Care to join in? By the way, it strikes me as rather odd that a King doesn’t know anything about the dungeons in his own palace.’

‘I suppose it would,’ Alistair replied, ‘but it’s not that I have had much time to explore the place. I feel still relieved when I’ve managed to find the breakfast table in the morning, the throne room after that and my own bedchamber when I’m more or less sleepwalking after all the dull but strenuous affairs of the day. And besides that, prisoners usually get hauled off to Fort Drakon.’

‘Can anyone estimate how much damage is done to that ship?’ Elissa asked.

‘Weeell,’ chuckled Hawke, ‘Varric here sort of destroyed the captain’s cabin –‘

‘On his own?’ Alistair sounded incredulously.

‘No. Together with Bianca. She blew the door and adjacent walls clean away. And there’s the matter of the hatch ...’ She shivered inwardly at the thought were that had to be used for. ‘And undoubtedly there will be some collateral damage. But I have no idea how long it will take to have that vessel seaworthy again.’

‘It sounds like you will have plenty of time to rest,’ the Queen said satisfied to Wynne, ‘perhaps it’s best if you start now.’

The First Enchanter gave her a small tired smile. ‘Since when did you turn into a nursemaid?’ She lifted her hand when Elissa wanted to protest. ‘No, you’re right. I will retreat to my chamber and try to get some sleep.’

After she left, a short, somewhat awkward silence fell. It seemed Elissa was about to say something but changed her mind at the same time. She tapped her fingers on the surface of the oaken table, carefully avoiding looking at anyone in particular. Nevertheless, Hawke got the impression she glanced shortly at Fenris out of the corner of an eye. _She knows much more than we about Wynne’s last night’s actions._ But before she could open her mouth, the Queen asked, ‘What are you expecting to find in the Deep Roads, Serah Hawke?’ She caught her off-hand and for a moment Marian didn’t know what to answer. Images of her father wandering through the dark cramped corridors, searching for a beastly creature to make an ungodly deal with flashed through her thoughts. _She has braved the Deep Roads. What did_ she _encounter? What does she know_? She hesitated but was saved by Berran.

‘How much has Wynne told you about our expedition?’ he carefully informed.

The Queen smiled heartening. ‘Look, Serah Berran, I know the whole subject is highly classified and surrounded with secrecy, but you can trust me and my husband.’

‘I have no doubt we can trust _you_ , but what about your servants and secretaries?’

‘I can assure you –‘ Elissa started but was immediately cut short.

‘No, ma’am, you can’t. You didn’t even know you had a Tevinter spy working in your kitchens.’ Elissa looked embarrassed and Berran mercilessly went on, ‘Who knows how many more spies you unknowingly employ and how many of them are eavesdropping at this very moment?’

This time the silence was not only awkward but also heavy as a leaden tombstone. Hawke felt Fenris go rigid beside her and laid a soothing hand on his knee in an effort to forestall, or at least lessen, his predictable tense response. He did, however, not react to her touch. ‘What do you mean, _a Tevinter spy_?’ His voice was strained as a lute string.

‘Oh Hawke, please. You could at least have enlightened him on your lovely little stroll through the town. Now all of us have to face his wrath.’ But Varric was wise enough not to reach for his crossbow, not even as some kind of bad joke; that would have been the ultimate vote of no-confidence against Fenris and the elf didn’t deserve that.

Marian thought they had had enough other disturbing things to talk about but she couldn’t say that out loud.

‘It’s a good thing I know you’re not serious, Varric,’ Fenris said, not taking his piercing glare off the Queen of Ferelden. ‘I just want to know one thing: were they after me?’

‘Yes,’ Hawke sighed, ‘in a way they were.’

_‘They?!’_

Hawke wanted to smack herself. ‘Eh, yes. Remember the bartender in the Gnawed Noble? He and a baker in the palace were told years ago to look out for a white-haired lyrium tattooed elf.’ She was afraid Fenris would bolt and she desperately soldiered on. ‘So they weren’t exactly _hunting_ you. They had even nothing to do with those Tevinter slavers on the Antivan ship; that they turned up at the same time in Denerim as we did was a stupid coincidence. They were probably aiming for the elves in the Alienage, they knew nothing about -’

‘It’s alright, Marian, I believe you. You can stop babbling now.’ He clutched her hand that still was lying on his knee. ‘I suppose I should have expected something like that. I’ve grown too accustomed to walk carefree around a city.’ He smiled bitterly. ‘Hence the naïf way I let myself take captive.’

‘Now, elf, I’m certain there was another perfectly legitimate reason you let down your guard like that. You didn’t have one to start with when you ran off.’

Fenris shook his head. ‘I appreciate you try to defend my stupidity, Varric, but there is no excuse.’ He continued to stare at the Queen and Elissa grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those intense silvery green eyes. In more way than one. ‘I would advise you to pick your servants more carefully in the future,’ he said to her.

Alistair coughed. ‘I think it’s better if we resume this conversation at a later, more convenient time,’ he said, afraid his wife would burst out in an angry rant. She wasn’t used to be patronised, let alone in her own palace. ‘And perhaps in another place. On a raft in the middle of the river Drakon, for example. I don’t know about you, but I have other business to take care of. Angry lords to calm down, prisoners to sort out and undoubtedly Shianni will turn up at some point, demanding an audience.’

Elissa mumbled something that sounded like an agreement and soon after that the meeting broke up.

-

Hawke and Fenris walked together through Denerim once again, not wanting to be cooped up in the palace while the sun was shining merrily. Marian had ostentatiously explained to Varric where they were going, which had earned her a venomous look.

‘I’ll be in my room, working on my epic love story,’ he had said as revenge.

'Try your worst, I don't care any longer,' Hawke had airily responded, which had made the dwarf glare darkly at her.

‘I think we should speak with Wynne,’ Marian now said, while they walked down a sunny boulevard descending to the river.

Fenris looked surprised. ‘Why? I thought you wanted to postpone the talk about our latest findings of your father’s undertakings?’

She sighed. ‘Not about that. About you. Just as I, you must have seen how exhausted she was. I’d like very much to find out what she did.’

‘She is not that young anymore,’ Fenris objected while his heart seemed to clench, ‘and I understand she has been through a rough and strenuous night. Anyone would look exhausted after that, let alone an elderly woman.’

‘You know very well it’s not just that... She looked ... I don’t know, like she had lost something of her – self.’ Hawke sounded frustrated. ‘I don’t know how to describe it. It seemed something was missing in the expression in her eyes. It was more than just fatigue.’

They walked on in silence until they reached the river, where they stopped.

‘Marian,’ Fenris finally said softly, ‘I’m not certain I _want_ to know.’

She saw his face was filled with worry, sorrow and insecurity. She nodded understandingly and put her arms around him. She kissed him tenderly on his cheek and whispered, ‘I fear we will find out sooner or later, whether we want to or not.’

With some effort he suppressed a shiver and just held her close.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One way or another, I always managed to end DAO with Alistair as my husband and Zevran as my lover. Yes, I know, quite wicked, but oh so much fun! According to their reactions, there was quite some rivalry going on between them, somewhat similar to Fenris and Anders. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a strange chapter, this one. Lots of emotions and quite a revelation. Hope you like it anyway.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 28

-

Everyone was greatly and pleasantly surprised when Isabela, holding on to her word, really turned up at the dinner table to deliver her report. She stated that it would take about two days to mend the damage to the ship and that most of the crew had agreed to accept her as the new captain.

‘A decent bunch of scallywags, I must admit,’ she’d said, unsuccessfully trying to hide the merry twinkle in her eyes. ‘Give me a few weeks and I’ll turn them into a gang of ferocious pirates. But then again, I like Antivans,’ she added with a broad grin. Varric and Hawke, sitting next to each other, changed looks.

‘I raise the stake. With two sovereigns,’ Varric had hissed. Marian had accepted the challenge.

Isabela had blabbered on. ‘A pity we have to make do with a barrel like the _Chubby Mermaid_ but hey, who knows with what kind of sleek shark or shiny swordfish we will end up.’ After dinner she had whirled away to take supervision over the reparations once more. All the time she had been prattling and chattering about _her_ ship and _her_ hands and the provisions they had to take on board.

‘I can’t remember the last time she didn’t talk about or even hint at sex for more than half an hour on end,’ Varric had remarked in the blessed quiet that filled the room after her departure, ‘but she seems to be as happy as a cat in a birdhouse. You won’t hear me complain.’ And after some contemplation he added, ‘Really, the _Chubby_ _Mermaid_?!’ He had shaken his head in wonderment.

They used the days to stow provisions aboard the plump but already cherished ship (ugly carrier or not), practise their fighting skills and with generally hanging around. Wynne did a lot of resting, Varric a lot of writing, Zevran a lot of supporting Isabela, and Hawke and Fenris a lot of walking around Denerim. Berran assisted in the interrogating of the ex-captain of the merchant ship and the three remaining Tevinter slavers. There was no twisting of arms involved; Alistair wouldn’t have it. Nevertheless, they found out the ex-captain was deeply sorry about his disgusting deeds and declared solemnly he would never ever throw in his lot with slavers again and that the slavers themselves were deeply sorry they existed at all. The presence of an obsidian eyed Seeker surrounded with an aura of austerity and with the silent promise things could always be so much worse than they seemed to be right now, accomplished much without even a touch. The King and Queen and the Hahren decided the four would be put on trial. A fair trial, Alistair had underlined with emphasis, not some kind of show and certainly no lynching. He wouldn’t have that either. Shianni had agreed with defiantly pursed lips. After some contemplation the hired guards were set free. They had been given the choice of joining the city guard and most of them had agreed to do so.

-

On the morning they would set sail to Amaranthine, Hawke woke up early. She had been restless all night, despite the breathtaking lovemaking with Fenris – thankfully without the overwhelming wonderful but highly disturbing experience of the last time – and had hardly been able to sleep at all. She couldn’t shake off the feeling they were headed for the last stage of their journey, the most important stage. Soon she would unravel the riddles her father had left behind, or find nothing at all. She didn’t know what was worse.

She didn’t wake Fenris; he was still fast asleep and since that was a rarity, she let him enjoy his bliss. On her way to the courtyard that the Queen used as some kind of gymnasium, she stumbled upon said woman who was standing next to the pond in the small but tasteful and peaceful garden. Elissa turned her head the moment she heard Hawke’s footsteps and their eyes met. There was some undefined feeling of understanding, even without words.

‘Serah Hawke, good to see you. I was planning to look for you,’ Elissa broke the silence. ‘I have written a letter for Sigrun as some kind of recommendation, if you like. To let her know I trust you so _she_ can trust you and she can speak plainly and give answers to whatever questions you have. Whether or not she wishes to accompany you into the Deep Roads will be her own decision, of course. I can’t force her and neither can you. I want to give the letter to you since you are the leader of your – expedition as Wynne keeps calling it.’

Hawke lifted a corner of her mouth in a lopsided rueful smile. ‘I never asked for the title.’

Elissa reciprocated the smile. ‘I recognize the feeling,’ she assured her, ‘but, nevertheless, here we are. Pushed into a position we didn’t ask for, with responsibilities we never wanted to take but take nonetheless because we have no other choice than to do just that, or run away and hide. And I believe that neither of us consider that an option.’

Hawke nodded knowingly. ‘And we don’t run and hide because we would hate ourselves for letting down the people who depend on us.’ She closed her eyes. _And get crushed by an ogre nonetheless and die while the one who was supposed to save her was too entangled in another battle and too far away to save her on time. I let_ her _down. Damn._

Elissa turned to the wooden bench under the weeping willow and sat down, patting the space next to her. ‘Please, Serah Hawke, take a seat.’

‘Could you at least call me Marian? I must confess I’m getting a little nervous from all the pomp and circumstance.’

The Queen chortled. ‘I will call you Marian only if _you_ call me Elissa. And believe me when I say I hate the pomp and circumstance as much as you do, even if I’m of so called noble birth. My parents were sensible, straight forward thinking people who taught me at a very young age that the kitchen maid and scullery boy had as much worth as I had.’

‘A very wise reflection,’ Marian said while she sat down next to Elissa, ‘but then again, who is wise enough to judge if a life of a noble is of more value than that of one of their servants?’ After a short silence she continued, ‘It could be the noble turns out to be an insufferable prig with as much worth as a midden, and the humble servant rises to the height of heroism, or the other way around.’ She smiled ironically. ‘You tell me. The Blight has turned many lives upside down; I think the true character of people shows in times of a crisis.’

Elisa observed her. She had to admit she was impressed. She found many similarities in that smile and thoughtful expression, and in the words the other woman spoke. Alistair had already joked they looked so much alike that they could pass for family. But that was not the reason why she was pleased to meet her, here in the garden this very morning. She had a surprise for her; well, some kind of surprise, anyway. She could only trust it would turn out as well as she hoped it would. There was only one way to find out.

 ‘I wished we would have the chance to talk some more,’ she said with regret, ‘I have the feeling we don’t differ that much and could tell each other a lot of interesting things.’ She hesitated and then blurted, ‘You know, I’ve heard some tales about your father.’

Hawke looked up sharply. ‘How that so?’ she asked, confused.

Elissa chuckled softly. ‘Wynne told me you’ve been hearing a lot of disturbing news about your father. I thought you’d like to learn something more – normal facts. Soothing, if you will. I spent quite a time on the road with Duncan when we travelled from Highever to Ostagar; we had a lot of opportunity to talk. Duncan was the Grey Warden who recruited me when my home was taken and my parents were about to get killed.’ She pulled a hand over her face as if to ward off the bad memories.

‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Don’t be, Marian, you had no part in it. Besides that, I believe you have lost a lot yourself. But let’s not rake up sad old affairs. We were talking about your father. Normal, soothing, remember? I understand Duncan met him first in Lake Calenhad Docks where he visited a runesmith who was living in the village. He told me that – Malcolm, wasn’t it? – made a big impression on him from the start. He even asked him to become a Grey Warden, but your father declined the offer; he was too much wrapped up in whatever it was he was studying. Forgive me, I forgot.’

‘Runes,’ Hawke murmured, ‘protective runes.’

‘Ah yes, of course. That’s why he visited the runesmith. Duncan went to see him at the Tower several times after their first encounter. Later they met again in Lothering, where your father had settled down with his wife. Your mother. I believe they maintained a dear friendship. At least for a number of years.’

‘I don’t recall I ever saw him,’ Hawke said tentatively.

Elissa gave her a wan smile. ‘It seems your mother didn’t like Duncan very much; apparently she was afraid he would recruit your father as yet.’ Marian nodded; that sounded like Leandra. ‘So they usually met in the village’s tavern.’

‘That would be Dane’s Refuge, master Barlin’s place.’ Hawke smiled at the remembrance. ‘Bit of an odd chap but a good one.’ Her smile faltered. Dane’s Refuge existed no more and master Barlin was undoubtedly dead. _No. Don’t go that way. You can’t change the past._ She took a breath. ‘Tell me more,’ she requested the Queen.

‘What is there to say? As friendships so often fare, eventually they lost sight of each other. I don’t know why, presumably they got absorbed by other activities. I know Duncan was restlessly travelling Thedas in search of promising recruits and signs of Darkspawn threats.’

‘What happened to him?’

The Queen’s face clouded over. ‘He died at Ostagar.’ Her voice was thin as a silken thread.

‘A lot of good people died at Ostagar,’ Hawke said softly, ‘I still often wonder how we managed to escape more or less unscathed.’

‘You fought there as well?’ Elissa exclaimed, surprised.

‘Together with my brother. We got away, most of the others didn’t.’

Elissa looked sidelong at her. ‘A pity we didn’t meet there, or when I visited Lothering on my way to Redcliff. I could have persuaded you to join me in the combat against the Blight.’

Hawke laughed in mockery. ‘My mother would have had a fit. And my sister would have harassed me. She was extremely upset you freed the Qunari and took sister Leliana with you, you know. The first she feared and hated because he killed one of her best friends; the latter she admired and liked because of the lovely stories she told. Of course, she didn’t have much time to stay upset; not days later the Darkspawn washed over Lothering and we were forced to flee.’  _And then she died._ She vigorously bit her lip to keep the grief at bay.

In a sudden impulse Elissa grabbed Marian’s hand and squeezed it. She looked at her with a little, sad smile and Marian could see the tears that made the Queen’s eyes glisten. She blinked a few times but couldn’t prevent a few tears from rolling down her face. Marian pressed her lips when she felt the moist gathering in her own eyes.

‘It gets easier along the way,’ she said softly, ‘easier to cope with the loss. And the pain lessens. But it never really goes away.’

Elissa nodded in agreement. In silence they thought about the losses of the ones so dear to them, the ones they so fiercely had wanted to safe but had never been able to keep alive. Inwardly they wept about the loss of their familiar lives they had taken such a long time for granted. Because they knew no other life. Because they were used to it. Because it gave a feeling of safety, a feeling to be loved and cared about. Because they both had been blessed with a caring and loving family. Before the Blight swept it all away, before everything had gone askew. For both of them. Abruptly torn apart just over a year ago. Not more than a year and a few months.

‘Like I said before,’ Elissa finally laughed quivering, letting go of Marian’s hand, ‘I wished you could stay somewhat longer. We have a lot in common.’

‘I will return when this is all over so we can talk some more,’ Marian promised. They smiled through their tears.

-

A few hours later, the members of the “expedition” got aboard Isabela’s new plaything to sail to Amaranthine. Days passed without much excitement. They killed the time with playing cards, strolling along the deck, drinking coffee, tea, ale, wine and rum and telling each other all kinds of stories. Isabela busied herself with commanding the crew and happily fussing around in general with an almost distressing permanent grin on her face. Between those activities, she found delighted moments to spend with Zevran in the restored captain’s cabin. Varric once again raised the stakes. In the hold a number of small huts were created to accommodate the travellers and give them some idea of privacy.

On one not very particular afternoon, that would soon turn out to be very memorable, Hawke and Fenris stood at the railing, silently staring at the waves.

‘A penny for your thoughts,’ Fenris said eventually.

Marian almost started. ‘What?’

‘You look pensively, not to mention sad. What is bothering you?’

She smiled ironically. ‘An attack of real pirates? An unexpected cyclone that will drag us to the bottom of the sea? My father turning out to be a monster? Danarius who suddenly arises from the wild billows to drag you away? A Qunari dreadnought landing death and destruction upon us? Wow, so many flavours to choose from, which one shall I pick?!’

Fenris pinched her side which made her jump and yelp.

‘You bloody bastard!’ she screeched, ‘you did that deliberately!’

‘Of course I did,’ Fenris smirked. ‘Anything to loosen up your strained mind. It’s such a revelation to know you’re ticklish.’ He beamed at her and pinched her again, catching her off guard. She yelped once more. Furiously she punched him in his chest. ‘You, you _elf_!’

He caught her fist easily. ‘Yes. I thought we already established that fact times ago. I suppose the ears gave me away..?’ Before she could react he drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

They got interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream, followed by the sickening loud thud of a body hitting the deck. They let loose of each other and turned fast as lighting.

One of the hands apparently had lost his footing and had fallen out of the rigging. He lay motionless on the deck, one of his legs twisted in a disturbingly unnatural way. His eyes were closed; he seemed to be unconscious – or dead. Before they could move, Wynne had rushed over to the victim and already troubled herself about him. The well-known bluish light of healing hovered over the injured body.

Fenris gasped. He grasped his head with both hands. Something felt completely out of place. As if his brain got torn out of his skull. He felt himself dragged to the unfortunate hand with the broken leg lying motionless on the deck. Right to Wynne who was still trying to heal the wounded man. He reacted as if some kind of rope pulled him inevitably towards her. Not moments later he found himself on his knees beside her. A clear crystal voice resonated through his head. _Help her. She gave me to you. But she needs me now. Save him._ His markings flared. Wynne reached out for him and touched his arm. A lightning bolt shot through him. But before he could scream the pain subsided and just left him with a faint itch and the feeling of utter completion. As if he had emptied his burning need inside Marian. Yes, almost as an orgasm. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal. He recoiled violently and looked at Wynne with wide opened eyes.

‘What the hell happened?’ He sounded rough and hoarse, the velvet torn apart.

Wynne covered her face with her hand. She sharply drew in breath as if she was trying not to break out in tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, Fenris. I never wanted you to know this but I fear our deeds always find some way to reveal themselves.’

‘Stop speaking in riddles. _What have you done_?’ He ground his teeth.

Wynne swallowed. ‘When I was still living in the Tower and the attack of the abominations and demons came, I tried to save one of the apprentices,’ she started in such a small voice she was almost inaudible. ‘This happened not because of the Blight but because of an assault from inside the Circle. We were not prepared, but nevertheless tried to defend ourselves.’ Her face twisted. ‘I wish I had known about Uldred’s intensions. It would have been so much easier if I had,’ she whispered.

Fenris kept her eyes captured in an utmost dark look. Wynne swallowed once again. ‘A demon attacked me. I almost died. But at the same moment a spirit appeared from the Fade. It took my dead hand and started to revive me. It entered my mind – my body and stayed there, expanding the life I thought was lost. I don’t know why she did it, why she chose me, decided I was worthwhile enough to save; she never explained.’

Marian was so frightened of what would follow, she almost choked in her own breath.

‘When we found you so badly wounded that you wouldn’t have survived, not even with my healing abilities, I sent the spirit to you. She saved you. She took hold of you and kept you breathing. She kept you alive.’ Wynne shivered. ‘She saved you,’ she repeated, ‘not me, she did.’ Her voice faltered.                  

An expression of abhorrence spread on Fenris’s face before he blanched and staggered back. His heart started hammering in his chest, his breathing became ragged. This couldn’t be true. He refused to believe it. He jumped up and clenched his hands into fists.

‘You have made an abomination out of me,’ he panted in a suffocated voice. Marian reached out to him but he swatted her hand away. He drew in breath and vehemently tried to suppress the urge to vomit. He turned sharply to look at her. ‘Did you know about this?’ he bit.

‘No,’ she breathed, ‘no, I didn’t.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ he spat. He turned and bolted.

Not able to react, Marian looked at Wynne who was still kneeling beside the body of the fallen man. His leg was healed, the colour had returned to his face but he was still lying unconscious on the deck. Wynne on her turn looked deadly pale. Marian was trembling all over her body.

‘You know how much he hates magic. Let alone spirits. Did you really have to do that to him?’

Wynne looked up and Marian almost got physically wounded by her tormented gaze. ‘Would you rather he’d died? Would he?’

She sought for an answer but found none. She hastened after Fenris, letting Wynne sit alone.

-

Fenris thrashed around the small hut, thumping the walls. He had already turned over the table, made a mess of the bed and crashed the water jug, but it hadn’t helped to cool him down. He felt utterly betrayed. So, that was what happened. It had nothing to do with ultimate love or some kind of supreme insight. No entwining of minds had been going on. A spirit. A blasted, blighted cursed spirit had wormed its way into his mind. A _spirit_! This time his fist punched right through the thin wooden wall. Might as well have been a demon. After all, the Dalish witch called _her_ demon a spirit. What was the difference. Some evil entity from the Fade possessed him. It didn’t matter it had saved his life; he would rather have died. He let out a furious cry and sank on the floor, burying his face in his hands.

And, of course, Marian had known about this. She must have. She probably even had suggested it, definitely not objected to it. The Queen undoubtedly was involved too. The way she had looked at Wynne ... A spirit. A Maker forsaken _spirit_. Possessing him. He heard the door creak open and a few hesitating footsteps entering the devastated hut. Her footsteps.

‘Go away,’ he croaked. Up till now it had taken all of his self-control not to rush out and strangle Wynne. He didn’t want to turn on Marian, how much all of his senses screamed out to punish her for what she had done. Or at least had agreed with.

‘Fenris,’ she whispered, ‘please, I didn’t –‘

‘Go. Away,’ he repeated harshly.

‘I didn’t know.’ Her voice quivered. She slid down the thin wrecked wall and sat next to him, a few inches away, too afraid to touch him.

‘Yes you did,’ he snarled heatedly. ‘Of course you did.’

‘No.’ She fervently tried not to break down, to keep her tears from falling. ‘Please believe me, I didn’t know, I feel as lost and devastated as you do right now.’ She tentatively touched his hand with her fingertips and to his own surprise he let her.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he uttered stubbornly but at the same time dragged her into his arms.

‘I’m so sorry, I never wanted this, I never knew,’ she stammered before her breath was cut off by a desperate kiss.

He embraced her and let loose at the same moment. He pushed her away. ‘Yes, you did. You were there all the time. You must have known what she did, I even bet you pleaded for it. Just leave me.’ He turned away from her.

‘Fenris...’

‘Leave me!’ he roared. After she had fled, he punched another hole in the wall.

-

It didn’t take long before the door to the flimsy devastated hut opened again and revealed a newcomer. Fenris didn’t even have to look up to know it was Varric.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ The hostility dripped from his voice.

‘Trying to talk some sense into you,’ the dwarf responded. He took in the damage but didn’t comment on it. ‘Hawke is crying her eyes out and I won’t have it. You took out your anger and panic on her and hurt her deeply while she didn’t deserve it. You damn well know that.’

‘Yes she did. She let Wynne have her way. She hasn’t done anything to stop her.’

‘She didn’t know about it, so how _could_ she have prevented Wynne from saddling you with a spirit? She’s completely shattered and so is Wynne, by the way.’

‘She should be,’ Fenris growled.

Varric stepped closer. He tried very hard not to whack the elf around the pointy ears. ‘So you have been saved by a spirit. Could have been worse. You could have died.’

‘A better alternative.’

‘Don’t act like a stupid idiot,’ Varric snapped. ‘You should be grateful Wynne saved your sorry ass, but instead you behave like a petulant child. And moreover lashed out to Hawke.’

‘A petulant child?! How would _you_ feel when you suddenly found out you’re burdened with a spirit you never asked for?! I’m not better than, than – Anders!’

Varric shifted his weight and barked out a short laugh. ‘So, that’s the problem? You always looked down on the mage because he harbours that Justice figure and now you’re in the same position? Maybe you should take notes and compare them with his experiences.’

‘I don’t look down on him because of that spirit but because I think he is an outright danger for himself and everyone around him because of it.’ Fenris screwed his eyes shut for a moment. ‘And now I find myself in the same situation. And it’s not that _I_ have been given a choice whatsoever,’ he snarled. His head jerked up. ‘It talked to me, Varric, it _talked_ to me! Have you any idea how unsettling it is to hear a voice inside your head you definitely know isn’t yours?! And what’s next? Me getting suddenly the insatiable urge to free all mages?’

Varric unsuccessfully tried to stifle a chuckle. ‘Anders would be having a field day.’

‘This is not funny!’ Fenris shouted, glowering spitefully at the dwarf. It took all of his willpower not to ignite his markings. They lit up for a heartbeat but he managed to control them.

Varric sat down next to him and patted his hand, not in the least intimidated. ‘In fact, elf, it is. In a highly ironical way. Tell me, was the strange voice in your head that started jabbering to you a little while ago the first indication you’re, er, of two minds?’

Fenris looked alarmed. ‘What do you mean?’

Varric shrugged his shoulders. ‘It has been a week by now. One might think that being used as a host to a spirit might draw one’s attention. It seems logic to me you must have sensed something was off somewhat sooner.’

_Oh yes I did and no way I’m going to tell you about it._

‘I didn’t,’ he said gruffly. He felt Varric almost drill a hole in his head with his intense glare and pressed his lips. Clearly he didn’t believe him and, what was worse, he was sure Varric guessed where, why and how. Blasted dwarf. To his own frustration he felt his fury starting to subside. He wanted to hold on to it, wanted to keep the feeling alive to kick the whole world black and blue. But for some reason just the presence of the dwarf calmed him down.

‘Fenris..?’ Both the elf and the dwarf looked up to see Wynne standing in the opening of the door, one hand leaning against the frame. ‘I think you didn’t understand me properly.’ She smiled wearily. ‘Perhaps I should have explained it better, but you’re not possessed.’

‘Really?’ Fenris reacted with a sneer. ‘How would _you_ call it?! Getting the opportunity to have a silent but heated conversation with some uninvited guest? A psychological rash you can’t get rid off?’ With all his might he tried to rekindle his anger but the sight of Wynne, pale and tired and haggard, made him even more deflate than Varric’s presence already had done.

‘I did send the spirit to you and she did heal you but she -’ Wynne sighed deeply. ‘This is hard to explain. She didn’t move into you, merely gave you a part of herself to save you.’

‘And how do you explain that voice inside my head and what happened when Marian and I made –‘ _Fuck!_ He groaned loudly and bumped his head backwards against the wall. He would never hear the end of it.

‘Ah. So that’s what happened,’ Varric beamed happily. ‘That must have been quite an exalting experience.’

‘If you have the guts to write that down, dwarf, be assured I will break all of your fingers. Slowly,’ Fenris threatened.

Varric’s beam broadened, ‘I bet you wouldn’t dare.’

‘I’m getting fed up with your bets.’ He gestured towards Wynne. ‘Please continue.’

Despite the situation Wynne couldn’t conceal a little smile. She stepped into the badly molested room. Varric jumped up, fished a stool somewhere out of the debris and offered it to her. Gratefully she sank down on it. Once again she turned to Fenris. ‘I told you that during that fierce fight with the demon in the Tower, the moment I lost my life, the spirit out of the sudden appeared. She saved my life, expanded it. Without her I wouldn’t be here. Yes, I can converse with her but she doesn’t control me.’ She shot Fenris a weak smile. ‘I know about your history and can understand your disgust for anything magical or coming from the Fade.’

He listened intently, keeping his mouth shut.

Wynne closed her eyes and clasped her hands. ‘The moment we found you on that ship – this ship, I knew it would be very difficult to save your life. Even Serah Hawke doesn’t know how badly you were injured. I had no other choice than to call upon the spirit, my own abilities didn’t suffice to keep you alive.’

‘I suspected that much.’ Fenris mumbled.

‘So I made an appeal to her, asked for her help –‘ She raked a hand through her face. ‘Serah Hawke ... Marian would have been completely devastated if you would have died. She was –‘ she searched for the right word.

‘Hysterical?’ Varric added helpfully. ‘Completely out of her mind? Willing to kill everyone around her? Including herself? And not only the ones responsible for the situation?’

Wynne chortled feebly. ‘Something like that, yes.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘It was very clear she wouldn’t be able to cope with your – death.’ Fenris stirred but she forestalled his reaction. ‘And neither would I. Seeing you together, the love you share, the life you have before you; I could not let that end. So I invoked her, my spirit. I suppose what you felt, while being – together with Marian, was some kind of derivative of what she did to keep you alive. She shares some kind of essence with you, she gave a part of her to you. But most of what is left of her strength is still with me.’

‘And that voice I heard when that unfortunate man fell out off the rigging..?’ He felt very small by now.

Wynne let out a deep breath. ‘I think because of what I asked of her, you and I are in some way connected with each other. The moment someone is in need of healing, or better of keeping their life, she lets me know. As she did with you, even before I called upon on her. At those moments she talks to me too. To be honest, I never realized it would affect you in that way, although I admit I feared it. Some kind of essence of her is evidently attached to you. I never got the opportunity to think that through, I had to act too swiftly.’

Fenris tried very hard to get rid of the abrupt lump in his throat. ‘You, you sacrificed a part of your expanded life ... for me –‘ No wonder Elissa had looked in such a worried way; she must have known. Suddenly he felt like an utmost fool. He hung his head. ‘Because of me you can die at any moment. Why did you do it?’

She sent a sweet smile in his direction and he almost lost it. ‘Because she loves you and you love her. Because you both are young and have your whole life before you to live. Because I have lived my life an am rather content with it – as I tried to explain to Elissa. The last thing I want is that you feel guilty. You have no reason to be. You never asked for this. I gave it to you freely.’ With a little smile she let follow, ‘And, at my age, young man, I can die at any moment regardless.’

Within a heartbeat he jumped up, embraced her and ran up to the deck. He found Marian standing at the railing, staring into nothing, her expression still despaired. He put his arms forcefully around her and rested his cheek against hers.

‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, ‘please forgive me. I should have understood.’ He searched her mouth and claimed her ferociously. She almost staggered.

‘There’s nothing to forgive, I understand,’ she whispered while she finally was able to take a breath. ‘I was as upset as you were.’

‘I’m not upset anymore,’ he assured her. ‘Only confused. And more than a bit ashamed.’ And he kissed her again.

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a bit too fluffy, this end? I could have brought up a nasty discussion between Hawke and Fenris, but I thought they had gone through enough already.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lemon, and I'm afraid I understate that one, it's quite .... well read and find out...  
> And Carver makes a re-entrance. Not even as grumpy as always. For the time being.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 29

-

The great hall in Vigil’s Keep was impressive. Not because of its grandeur (frankly, there was a definite lack of frivolous ornaments and frills to give legitimacy to that expression), but simply because of its robustness. Like the rest of the keep it radiated an air of no nonsense and, above all, impregnability.

‘Would you look at that,’ Varric had said in awe when they approached the stronghold, ‘good old dwarven architecture, built to last an eternity.’ He might have been a topsider for most of his life and wild horses couldn’t drag him back to Orzammar, he was still a dwarf and proud of this kind of achievements of his kin.

But structural design could enthral for only so long and Hawke was growing impatient. They were told by a guard to wait for an audience with the new commander and he seemed all too happy to let them wait. His name was Nathaniel Howe, the eldest son of the notorious Arl Rendon Howe who had been responsible for the death of Elissa Cousland’s parents, among all sorts of other revolting deeds. Hawke had been more than astonished when the Queen had told her, after their tender encounter, she had appointed him, of all people, as her successor in the Keep but she had explained the son was nothing if not the walking contradiction of his father. ‘He has proven his worth; the other Wardens all but respect him. And, after all,’ she had added with a faint smile, ’his family used to own the place.’ She had given her a sealed letter, addressed to him. ‘To smooth the process,’ she had smiled. ‘He is not the trusting kind. On the other hand, he himself is trustworthy, although he still is the first one to question that fact. The Howe name still haunts him and I think it’s rubbish. He proved his worth and I trust him.’

At this very moment Hawke’s respect for the man got in a fast tempo overtaken by irritation. She was wiggling on the bench on which she and her companions were sitting and started to tap her foot, never a good sign. Usually it would lead to an outburst of anger soon afterwards. ‘I just want to talk with Sigrun,’ she groused irritably. ‘I really don’t see why an introduction to the commander is necessary.’

‘Because it is customary in all fortresses throughout Thedas that everyone who feels like it can wander in and out to do what they see fit,’ Varric berated her with mild sarcasm. ‘Tsk, Hawke, some kind of commander he would be if he allowed that.’

‘I know that,’ she grumbled sulkily, ‘but does he have to let us wait till we take root?!’ She jumped up from the wooden bench and began to pace. It bode nothing good. An irritated Hawke could grow into a dangerous one.

‘I rely on you to prevent her from exploding and destroy unbreakable dwarven masonry,’ Varric said to Fenris who just cocked an eyebrow at him, looking amused.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Marian huffed.

But before she could say anything else, a familiar voice called out. ‘Maker’s breath, it really _is_ you! Fancy meeting you _here_! That’s what I call an unexpected surprise!’

She turned and her jaw dropped. ‘Carver!’ Next she knew she was lifted up and twirled around, armour and all, like she weighted nothing. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked breathlessly when her brother had put her down again. ‘I thought you were at Weisshaupt! How are you doing? You’ve changed in those past months; look at your shoulders! There’re broad!’

‘Ah yes, you wouldn’t believe the fierce exercises we’ve been put through. In comparison the army is a nursery school,’ her brother laughed. ‘I’ve been sent here as a trainee; I’ve only arrived the day before yesterday.’ He still clasped her arms, reluctant to let her go. ‘And what about you? What brought you here?’

Her radiant smile fell a little. ‘We’re here because of Father.’ Carver frowned, clearly not understanding. ‘I’ll explain everything to you after I’ve spoken with that blasted commander of yours. Promise. That is to say when – if the man is finally in the mood to receive me.’

‘He’d better be fast about it before accidents happen,’ Varric commented. ‘Hello Junior, nice to see you’re all grown up. The armour suits you.’

Carver acted as if he noticed the others just now and greeted them heartedly, although he was a little reserved when he shook Berran’s hand. ‘I take it you left the others behind..?’

‘Isabela and Zevran –‘ She saw the question marks rising in her brothers eyes and realized he never met the Antivan elf. ‘Ah, yes. Zevran, Isabela’s old and renewed lover. They are still in Amaranthine, something about a search for another extravagant hat – don’t ask. But they promised to catch up with us, so you will have all the opportunity to make your acquaintance. The other three are in Kirkwall. If I had known we would run into you, however, I would have dragged Merrill along,’ she teased mildly. Carver actually blushed. But before she could tease him more wickedly, a servant came to tell that the commander would see her now.

-

Hawke had to admit Nathaniel Howe was the embodiment of a commander: he bore a calm and stern demeanour and was blessed with a natural authority. And he was tall, and handsome in a rough way to boot. If he had one defect, it was he could hardly comprehend the phrase “having a sense of humour”. Marian felt her irritation seep away the moment he welcomed her.

‘I’m terribly sorry I let you wait for that long, Serah Hawke. It was not my intent but, well, something came in between.’

Since Hawke had almost bumped into a man who was fleeing the commander’s office with a very flushed face (later she found out he was the Seneschal), she immediately believed him. Some argument that must have been.

‘I’m here to see Sigrun,’ she said without further ado.

Nathaniel Howe raised one of his brows. ‘I see you’re one to come to the point,’ he said in an appraising tone.

Hawke grinned and handed him the letter Elissa Cousland had meant for him. ‘I am.’

The commander’s eyes skimmed over the text. ‘Says here you’re here for a – special investigation..?’

‘A personal one,’ Hawke declared firmly, ‘but nonetheless very important.’

He tapped the letter against his chin and shot her something that might have been a smile. ‘The Queen trusts you, apparently. That’s good enough for me. I’m afraid Sigrun isn’t in at the moment but she should return tomorrow. You can stay here as my guests.’

And with that the matter was settled.

-

Hadriana had put up at the Crown and Lion Inn in Amaranthine, together with her apprentice Titia and her two “servants”. As in Cumberland, she had sent her small army far enough outside of the city walls to not raise suspicion and to avoid nasty questions. This afternoon she and Titia were roaming the streets of the city, in search of merchants who could provide them with fresh supplies. Hadriana had finally caught up with the annoyance about the delay the storm had caused them and she more than once snapped at her apprentice. The young woman was used to it and didn’t give in to her angry fits, which didn’t mean she wasn’t getting tired of it. It was a straining afternoon and she looked forward to a quiet evening in the inn. Perhaps she could talk her tutor into drinking a bottle of wine, so her sour mood would dwindle.

Hadriana had been haggling over the price of corn and dried meat with one of the merchants in the marketplace and had just finished the deal, when she got distracted by a loud tittering female voice. She looked in the direction the sound came from and her eyes fell on a barely dressed woman. Her nose wrinkled at the sheer vulgarity the woman radiated and she already wanted to walk on.

‘Ooh Zevran, I can’t wait to put these on so you can tear them off again,’ the scantily clad woman cooed while she waved a little bag around, cackling slyly.

Only now Hadriana became aware of the wench’s companion. Her eyes flew open and the blood drained from her face. ‘Andraste’s cursed ashes,’ she swore under her breath. She grappled Titia’s arm and dragged her into the shadows of a portico.

‘What’s wrong?’ the apprentice asked puzzled.

‘That’s the ex-crow I met in Orlais and sent to Kirkwall,’ Hadriana hissed. ‘What the hell is he doing here?! Our spy in Kirkwall never reported he set sail to Ferelden!’ She groaned. ‘Could it be he travelled with Danarius’s prized slave and his mate?’

‘Perhaps this is just a coincidence,’ Titia tried to calm her down, ‘and I thought the Magister’s pet was in Denerim? Even if he has travelled with them, they might have split up. And then again, what’s so bad about him turning up here? He can’t do anything to you.’ She saw the quiet evening evaporate in thin air. No amount of wine could remedy this bad twist of fate.

‘Oh, he can do a lot of things to me and to you also, take it from me,’ Hadriana snarled. ‘And I don’t believe in coincidences. Fenris might be here. That Antivan son of a bitch warned him instead of taking him captive; it wouldn’t surprise me he decided to stick with him. We have to follow those two, find out what’s going on.’ She bit her lip pensively. The first shock of the recognition ebbed away and a small cruel smile appeared around her thin lips. ‘If my suspicion is true, this could turn out for the best in the end.’

When the couple walked away from the market, the two mages slipped out off the shelter of the portico. Hadriana was grateful the sun had set and dusk was descending on the city. Nevertheless she kept a safe distance. They sneaked through the northern gateway that led to the docks.

‘Why are we acting so cautiously?’ Titia asked a little vexed. ‘We are mages, after all.’

‘That doesn’t count in these parts of Thedas,’ Hadriana said fractious, ‘on the contrary. I’ve explained that before.’

Titia shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean you can’t cast a little spell or two when nobody’s watching. Who’d notice?’ She had put up some courage, now her tutor’s mood seemed to have tilted to a more positive side.

‘Besides that, Zevran’s not only an ex-crow but also a rogue.’ Hadriana raised her voice a little out of annoyance. ‘They tend to notice everything, everyone and every movement.’

‘Really? He seems rather preoccupied right now,’ her apprentice replied sardonically. Hadriana didn’t answer but kept her eye closely on the Antivan elf.

When they had reached the docks, Zevran and his vulgar friend turned left and started walking down a quay towards a moored stout merchant ship. ‘I bet Hawke will be sooo excited when I show her what I bought for her!’ they heard the woman chatter.

‘I think Fenris might even be more excited,’ Zevran audibly smirked. ‘I hope they’ll give Vigil’s Keep something to talk about.’

Hadriana stopped abruptly and took hold of Titia’s arm. She cursed again. ‘Vigil’s Keep, the Warden’s stronghold! They will be well protected there.’ The fortress absolutely didn’t hold any Tevinter spies, of that she was positive. She let out a big sigh. ‘Let’s hope they won’t stay there for long. Oh well, at least we now know where they are; we don’t have to travel all the way to Denerim. I consider that a pro. Come, let’s return to the Crown and Lion and deliberate about our next step.’

No spies in Vigil’s Keep? About time to remedy that.

-

‘Look at the size of that thing!’ Hawke gasped. ‘You can play hide and seek in it!’ She stared at the enormous four-poster bed that was taking up a good deal of the space in the chamber. ‘What’s a luxurious piece of furniture like that doing in an austere keep anyway?!’

The young female servant that had shown Fenris and her to their room giggled impishly. ‘I heard it’s some kind of heirloom. It belonged to the Howe’s. It was built as a matrimonial bed but the story goes it was never used as such.’ She giggled again and let her voice go down to a conspiratorially whisper. ‘They say all the brides refused to lie with their husbands in it.’

‘I understand they did manage to have offspring, one way or another,’ Fenris remarked dryly, ‘or else Nathaniel Howe is descended from a long line of bastards.’

‘All I know is that the commander doesn’t want to sleep in the thing,’ the maid sniggered and walked further into the chamber.

‘Perhaps the brides just didn’t want to get lost in that gargantuan construction?’ Hawke offered. ‘Perhaps they preferred to be deflowered in a more intimate environment? I assume the frail maidens didn’t want to play games in that colossus, unlike others.’ She gave Fenris a very sensual insinuating wink. He replied with a smouldering look that made her knees weak.

‘I put some towels on the table,’ the maid unintentionally interrupted them, ‘and there’s a basin filled with fresh water. I hope you will find everything to your satisfaction.’ She caught the looks they were throwing at each other and hastened out of the room.

‘I don’t doubt we will,’ Fenris murmured.

Even before the maid had closed the door behind her, Hawke had already kicked off her shoes and was pulling off her armour and tunic. She was much faster than Fenris, who had to cope with a far more intricately fastened outfit, and she dived in nothing but her underwear into the enormous bed while he was still struggling with his leggings. She immediately disappeared under the fluffy eiderdown, leaving hardly a trace. With a roar similar to his battle cry Fenris jumped after her, moving like a lean jungle cat as he chased her under the covers. She squealed when he got a grip on her ankle but she managed to wriggle free and tunnelled her way to one of the corners where she dallied for almost a moment too long. This time he nearly caught her wrist but with the swiftness of a rogue she vanished anew, her laugh stifled by the thick duvet. He went after her again, more determined than before and suddenly cried out in surprise when she pounced upon him, cupped his face and bit his lip gently. ‘Got you!’ she chuckled. But the moment he wanted to haul her into his arms, she slipped away once more and snaked with speed to the other side of the bed. With a loud snarl he pursued her but when he failed to catch her for the third time, he ripped with a frustrated growl the eiderdown of the bed, revealing her position within an instant.

‘You’re not playing fair!’ she protested huffily.

‘Life isn’t fair,’ he rumbled lowly. But before he could make a move, she threw one of the numerous ornamental cushions that had been scattered all over the bed, at him and hit him square in the face. She skidded to the headboard where she took cover behind a bastion of oversized feather pillows, launching the soft but surprisingly heavy missiles in his direction while he was approaching her in a stalking wolf-like manner. He knocked the makeshift artillery out of the way without any effort. There was a feral glower in his eyes that hypnotised her and made her giddy and utterly wanton. She almost gave in but at the last moment she abandoned her, already half ruined, down-and-linen citadel and escaped, crawling fast in a wide turn to the footboard. At least, that was her intension.

Fenris had enough of it. The game of hide and seek had turned into catch me if you can and it had stirred all kinds of wild and arousing feelings in his gut. It made his blood pound and rush disturbingly fast through his veins. With a forceful bellow he hurled himself to her, grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him. She squeaked indignantly and fought him tooth and nail like a savage wildcat, writhing and squirming, trying to regain her freedom. She even sank her teeth into his arm, drawing blood, but he didn’t let go of her. Something had awoken deep inside of him and he would have her, here and now. After some fierce struggling he turned her on her back and pinned her to the mattress.

‘Not fair!’ she objected again, kicking and twisting, but she was silenced before she could utter another word. He smashed his mouth on hers and kissed her with such a hungry ferocity that he literally sucked the air out of her lungs. ‘Not fair,’ she repeated feebly when she found some spare breath, which earned her another scorching kiss that left her completely defenceless. For the moment she had no other choice than to give up the fight.

Fenris didn’t leave her the time to recover but started to bite and lick her neck, her shoulders and her collarbone and in the meantime impatiently ripped off her breast band. ‘Never challenge a predator,’ he growled into her ear with that maddening soaked in dark sugar rough velvet voice, making her shiver violently. At the same time his fingers delved passionately into her hips and thighs, adding to the prospect of the incredibly hot sex that sinful voice promised. He flicked the tip of his tongue around an erect nipple in such an unexpected delicate way it shot fire bolts through her body. It resolved the last residue of her resistance and wrapped her in a heated lustful glow.

‘Not fair!’ she nevertheless moaned weakly although this time it sounded more like, ‘Please don’t stop.’

He attacked her mouth with an untamed grumble and after he had made sure she wasn’t able to speak anymore, he started nibbling her firm breasts while his nimble digits moved to the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He made short work of her smalls and pushed her legs farther apart with his knee. He stroked her drenched folds with an appreciating groan and got rid of his own smalls without missing a beat.

The only warning she got was a sharp intake of breath before he buried himself with one powerful thrust hilt deep in her craving hot depth. She cried out in delight. He started a brutish pace and she followed him in this turbulent ride that drove her over the edge of sanity. She clung onto him, with arms and legs alike, and let him fling them both through the universe beyond stars and time where their bodies exploded in a blazing fountain of mind-blowing fireworks. She lost all comprehension of here and now and even existence itself and let herself throw into the mighty staggering turmoil. Fenris’s resonating howl mingled with her vociferous scream and afterwards she was baffled the walls of the keep hadn’t crumbled.

Helplessly he collapsed on her boneless trembling frame, panting out a string of Tevene curses. Only very slowly she came floating back to the surface of normality and realized her fingers were still clamped in his back. It took all of her remaining strength to loosen them and just put her arms around him.

He heaved his head. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ he asked concerned, still fighting for breath.

She laughed throatily. ‘Hurt is not what springs into mind, no.’

’Good,’ he mumbled and dropped his head back on her shoulder.

Finally they managed to entangle their limbs and separate their bodies and in a state of mild bewilderment they sat up in the midst of strewn around pillows and cushions and crumpled sheets. One of the pillows had burst and a light shower of feathers had added to the chaos. Fenris pulled it off to cross the long way to the headboard, dragging Marian’s still limp body with him in his arms, and leaned heavily back when he had reached his goal.

‘We must do this again at some time,’ Marian said dreamily, resting her head on his chest.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘at some time. Not now. I thought I died.’ He drew his hand through her sweaty dishevelled hair and after some time said, ‘I don’t know what came over me. Do you think that spirit..?’ He let the question hover in the air. He had felt nothing of its existence this time, but still he wondered.

Marian chortled and brushed her lips against his heated skin. She could feel the pulsing of his still wild beating heart behind his ribs. ‘No. It was the excitement of the hunt, I’m certain of it. It brought out all of your primitive masculine instincts. Something like not wanting to ask for directions but much, much more electrifying.’ She chortled again, rather hoarsely, wondering if her voice would ever turn to normal again. ‘ _Little_ wolf? _Alpha_ wolf does not start to do you credit!’

Fenris grimaced, not knowing to be proud or ashamed. He plucked away a stray feather that stuck onto her shoulder.

‘I really acted like an idiot,’ he said after a long silence.

Confused she looked up but his eyes were hidden behind his white bangs. ‘I take it you’re not referring to your wondrous display of manliness a short while ago?’

He snorted. ‘That’s one way to put it.’ He shifted and cradled her nearer. ‘No. I’m talking of my behaviour when Wynne confessed about the spirit that healed me ... helped to heal me, anyway.’

‘No, Fenris, you didn’t act like an idiot,’ Marian replied softly but determined. She had expected and dreaded this moment; dreaded because she was afraid he would flog himself for his words and actions. He hadn’t been willing to talk about it earlier. She had anticipated it, but apparently it had taken an outburst like what just happened to give him the confidence to speak up. ‘I was as shocked as you were. Just like you, I thought at that moment she transferred that spirit inside of you.’

‘You weren’t the one who shouted and yelled and wrecked a hut.’

‘I wasn’t the one who was abused by a Magister for half a lifetime, who learned that magic brought nothing but distress, fear and pain, that spirits were the same as demons and evil monstrosities all together,’ she said bluntly.

His breath hitched by her plain unadorned words. He felt her fingers caress him in a slow and caring way, trailing along his chest and abdomen and back up, calming him. ‘I thought – not that I was over it, but at least could control it. I thought I had changed, had become more balanced. Mostly due to being around you.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘You’ve had more influence on me than I was willing to admit for quite a while. Still have.’ The little smile faltered. ‘And at the first opportunity I see red, refuse to listen to reason, refuse to believe _you_.’

Marian rolled onto her knees and took his face between her hands. ‘ _At the first opportunity?_ Are you listening to yourself? This is not about an angry dispute between you and Anders concerning mages’ freedom and dismissing all the Templars! This is not about waving magic at some ruffians in a slum! This is about hitting you at the very core! Like punching a throbbing wound! The very idea of you having to live with a Fade creature, life saviour or not, knocked even _me_ off my feet in horror, let alone you!’

‘I as good as held _you_ responsible for it,’ he whispered, once again mesmerised by how she knew and understood him so well. ‘Can you forgive me for that?’

She gave him one of her warm, loving smiles that set his heart ablaze. ‘There is nothing to forgive, Fenris, because I don’t blame you for anything.’ She touched his nose. ‘Hell, even Isabela wasn’t upset you slammed holes into her ship, who am I to take offence of a few words?’

‘Now you’re the one understating the situation. I wounded you; I insulted you by not trusting you –‘

 She laid her hand over his mouth. ‘Hush love. You did _not_ wound me and did _not_ insult me. Now stop beating yourself up about it.’ She tenderly planted her lips upon his.

He swallowed hard. ‘I do trust you. I do. You must believe me.’

The pleading tone of his voice almost broke her heart. ‘I know, my love. And I trust _you_.’ She was well aware of how that seemingly simple word meant the world to him. He had never trusted anyone until she came into his life. Learning how to trust her had been no simple feat. Trust was so important to him, it was the cornerstone of their relationship and the mere thought of losing hers could crush him. ‘I trust you,’ she said again and she felt his tension melt away.

He drew her in his lap and buried his face in her still tousled hair, hiding his emotions.

‘I can hardly grasp that Wynne willingly gave a part of her life away to me.’

Ah. Another of his worries. ‘To us,’ Marian corrected, ‘I’m as guilty as you in this case.’ She reached to his face once more and traced the line of his jaw. ‘It was her own choice, Fenris, because she is convinced you – and me – are worth it. Please accept that. Don’t sully or diminish her gift by fretting over it.’

He very hard tried to see her point of view. It was difficult. ‘Worth it,’ he repeated, ‘sometimes I still have trouble seeing I have any worth at all.’

She groaned inwardly _. Damn his past. Damn that rotten Magister._ She vigorously ignored the sudden flame of wrath that shot up in her chest. She was furious with his former master, not with him. It would be far from prudent to ventilate that anger to him at this moment. ‘How many times have you saved me by now? I don’t mean only in battle. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have lost my senses times ago. But you stood by me, endured my fits and soothed me. Because of that I’m still here. Because of that I’m still drawing breath. You gave me a purpose, despite all of my failures. Because you gave me your love and your trust. If that isn’t worth, I don’t know what is.’

He was completely mesmerised. Deep in his heart he knew she felt like this but to hear her saying it out loud ... ‘You did the same for me,’ he breathed.

‘Of course I did. It’s called caring for. You’re more valuable to me than anything or anyone in this world. I should emphasize that more often.’

He closed his eyes and let her words wash through him. She always had a way of making him feel better, of touching his inner pain and insecurities and lessen them. Her tender husky voice, and the words she spoke, were a balm to his fears and tormenting memories and helped him to keep them at bay. She filled him with this warm feeling of belonging, of meaning, of – worth. He would do anything for her. ‘Alright, I’ll try to appreciate her self-sacrifice.’

‘No self-sacrifice, gift.’

Of course. Gift. He wasn’t familiar with the expression but did his best to understand it. He basked in this new found revelation and then he sensed the tiniest of shivers coming from her body. A badly conceived shiver.

What the hell was she up to now? Knowing her, it was something to distract him and knowing himself he would fall for it.

Marian grinned mischievously, trying to lighten the tension, as Fenris had already guessed. Nevertheless, her words surprised him. ‘Leave it to you to turn from a devouring dominant male into a brooding puzzle-head within a heartbeat.’

As expected his answer came automatically. ‘I don’t brood.’

‘Yes, you do and let me tell you, no one broods as irresistibly handsome as you do.’

He pretended not to have heard that. ‘And at the risk of being slapped or scowled at, I was under the impression that changing moods in a heartbeat was your speciality.’

‘Hm, you might be right.’ She cocked her head. ‘Or maybe not.’ She tilted her face to look at him and a dangerous twinkle appeared in her eyes. He knew that twinkle all too well and he braced himself. ‘But perhaps we can duel for it.’

He was just in time to capture her wrist before she could seize a cushion. ‘Oh no you don’t.’ They rolled over each other a few times before she gave up and just kissed him.

This time their love-making was far more gentle but no less delicious.

-

Marian got dragged out of her rosy slumber by a loud banging on their bedroom door. She would have recognized that pattern anywhere and she groaned.

‘You’re making a nasty habit out of this, dwarf!’ she shouted. She realized at the same moment her voice still didn’t sound and work properly and stifled a cough. She felt Fenris stir beside her.

‘Are you decent?’ Varric called.

‘No!’ they both yelled in unison.

‘Good. Hurry up then. Dinner is about to be served and we can’t wait for the explanation about the strange noises coming from this chamber. Your brother in particular has some pressing questions. Since he’s become a Grey Warden, he sees Darkspawn all over the place.’

‘Go away!!’ Marian screamed, which was followed by another cough. She heard the dwarf snicker and walk away.

‘A sheer wonder Carver didn’t barge in here, instead of the dwarf,’ Fenris grinned cheerily. ‘A pity really, I would have paid to see that flustered perplexed expression on his face once more.’

‘I’m not amused,’ Hawke grumbled sullenly, already anticipating the stony looks Carver would grace her with.

Fenris turned on his stomach; he leaned loosely on one arm, put the other around her waist and nuzzled the crook of her shoulder.

‘Oh Fenris, did _I_ do that?!’ She stared in shock at the vicious bite mark on his upper arm. An elegant lyrium line swirled right through it but did nothing to conceal what she caused. Her stomach tightened. He turned his head and followed her gaze. A broad smile appeared upon his face. ‘I believe you did, yes. Who else? I wasn’t aware, though, you were that hungry.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she muttered guilty, ‘and you thought _you_ got carried away.’

‘I got,’ he said, hinting at the bruises and red spots his clenching fingers and love bites had left on her body. ‘It’s a sheer miracle we survived.’

He made her laugh, which wasn’t for the first time. ‘I’m not covering them up,’ she said defiantly, ‘let them watch and be jealous.’

They climbed out of the bed and got dressed. Just before they left the room, Fenris snaked one arm around her. He lifted her chin with his fingers to look into her eyes. ‘Marian, you mean everything to me, don’t ever forget that.’

-

Somewhere at the foot of the Frostback Mountains the party of Seekers were stuck. Ser Beaugris had been seething for over an hour by now but that hadn’t helped to move the boulders that barricaded their path out of the way. Obviously, there had been a landslide and since this part of the country was scarcely inhabited, or better not inhabited at all, no one had taken the effort yet to excavate the Imperial Highway out of the rubble the mountains had thrown on it. Wisely Leliana had kept silent; the captain had already looked at her as if he was willing to give her the blame of this disaster.

‘We set camp here,’ he ordered and immediately there was a bustle of activity. He had sent two of their group of eight to assess the damage and to see if there was some way around. It could be hours before they would return and at that time night would have fallen. Even Beaugris recognised that travelling in the darkness through the mountains via unknown and dangerous tracks would be ludicrous. That didn’t say he wasn’t annoyed beyond the limit and he made sure Leliana knew it.

‘He really doesn’t like you, does he,’ Adriana, the other female member of their band, remarked. They were gathered around a small fire and she was sitting next to her. In fact, she was the only one who deigned to communicate with her now and again, probably because they were both women. ‘Any idea why you pissed him off?’

Leliana poked into the fire with a wooden stick, feeling miserable. ‘I don’t know,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Never saw him before this expedition.’ At first she had thought Beaugris disliked her just because he didn’t trust her. But lately she had started to suspect it had to do with something far more pathetic. He bore a grudge against her because of the assignment Villefranche had given her. His superior. Going around him to favour a nameless girl. He envied her in some sick twisted way. She wouldn’t put it past him to sabotage her just to see her get punished. She feared more and more he would let something bad happen to their three prisoners, if they would succeed in taking them captive in the first place. Perhaps he would even sabotage that. She really didn’t like this kind of challenge.

_Give me an honest Archdemon anytime._

Leliana pressed her lips and poked in the fire again, venomously this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can understand Fenris struggled with a lot of issues. After all, he had a lot to cope with.
> 
> As always, thanks to all of you who read this chapter and left a kudos and a comment. They're more than welcome!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing an unexpected guest-star...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 30

-

The new day caught them in a diffused light that was seeping through thick curtains, while they lay entangled with the bedclothes and each other.

And with a surprise.

Hawke found herself lying with her head on a muscular chest, her arms and legs entwined with her beloved elf, surrounded by his warmth and with a feeling of safety.

‘Fenris,’ she murmured while she slowly and reluctantly awoke, ‘I don’t want to get up. Not yet. Too early. Too soon. Stop teasing me.’ But then she got aware of the weight on her shoulder; it felt too heavy and – furry? to be an arm or hand belonging to Fenris, and she realized the purring sound near her ear never could come from her elven lover. If so, he was in badly need of a cough medicine. Puzzled she turned her head and heaved it an inch. She got confronted with the yellow feline eyes of an orange tabby cat that regarded her with haughty interest.

‘What the –‘ she started flabbergasted. But somewhere in her still foggy mind rose the remembrance of Anders’s lively description of the cat the former Commander, now known as Queen Elissa, had gifted him with. Wait, hadn’t he told her that he had been forced to get rid of it and that that cruel act had been the last push to leave the Grey Wardens? She frowned. To get rid of? Clearly his treasured animal still lived here in Vigil’s Keep. What now forced to get rid of? What a lousy excuse to flee from the Order! Or was this some kind of delusion? Was she still asleep?

And then she got fixated by the unruffled look of the unexpected feline companion. ‘You’re Ser Pounce-a-Lot, aren’t you?’ she mumbled dreamily which earned her a stroke against her forehead; automatically she fondled the animal behind the ears. She almost dislocated her shoulder to please it; cats can do that to a person. Sir Pounce-a-Lot purred louder and now rubbed its head against Fenris’s chin, not inches away, tickling his nose with its whiskers. The elf sneezed in his sleep and Ser Pounce-a-Lot put a paw on his nose. Hawke giggled.

Fenris’s eyes flew open and he stirred violently in shock. The cat, evenly startled, immediately lashed out with its needle sharp claw and left five thin fiery red marks on Fenris’s cheek before it retreated fast as lightning to the middle of the bed.

‘Aargh!’ Fenris shot up with the speed of a launched arrow. In one fluent movement he rolled to the side of the bed, reached for his sword that sat against the wall, grabbed it and pointed the weapon at the cat that had searched refuge behind a stray cushion. The animal hissed and fluffed up its tail. ‘What the hell was that?’ Fenris cried out rather belatedly. Act first, ask questions later.

Hawke had already spun out of his reach, exploding with laughter. ‘It’s just an innocent little kitty-cat!’

‘Innocent?! That beast just tore my face open!’

Hawke laughed even harder; in fact, she had to hold on to her belly. ‘Meet the notorious Ser Pounce-a-Lot,’ she guffawed, pointing at the ball of orange fur hiding behind the cushion. It was crouching low, flinging its still fluffed up tail, looking warily at the elf. ‘Explorer of the Deep Roads, killer of Dark Spawn, well, I understand he at least tapped one on the nose and drew blood, and now the fright of a fearless elven warrior. In short, Anders’s former cat.’

‘Of course,’ Fenris groused, ‘like master like cat.’

‘I don’t believe cats have masters,’ Hawke chuckled, dabbing at the tears that rolled down her face. ‘You don’t own a cat, a cat owns you. A well known fact. The trouble is the little rascals know it too but that still is no reason to kill them. Look at you, an audacious, skilled fighter, threatening a feeble small cat with a menacing broadsword! Very impressing. Ow, the poor thing, you scared him.’

 ‘ _I scared him??_ That monster tried to rip off my face and _I_ scared it?’ With a deep grunt Fenris replaced his sword against the wall and fell back on the pillows, feeling idiotic and ridiculed. ‘How did the thing even get in here?’

Marian tried to stop laughing without avail. ‘I have no idea. He woke me; at first I thought it was you purring into my ear.’

Fenris turned his head and stared at her in disbelief. ‘Since when do you mistake me for a cat? No – don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.’ He grabbed for his maltreated skin. It stung. ‘The _poor_ _thing_ ,’ he muttered grumpily. ‘That son of a bi-‘

‘Pussycat,’ said Marian helpful which earned her devilish glare.

‘- is even more malicious than a dragonling!’

Marian cautiously moved closer to him, still giggling. ‘I was half asleep; for a moment I thought that pleasant sound in my ear was you’re voice trying to wake me up,’ she tried to mollify him, although she feared it was a hopeless task at this moment. Fenris indeed huffed indignantly but didn’t deign to answer. ‘Let me take a look at your cheek.’

He swatted her hand away, his look murderous. ‘Don’t bother, I’m sure I won’t bleed to death.’

She drew back, vainly trying to stifle a new snigger. Over the hills of the thick eiderdown Fenris glowered at the feline disturbance, still crouching behind the cushion. Its tail had retaken its normal proportion and had stopped swaying but the yellow eyes still surveyed him with great anxiety. ‘I dare to bet this is Varric’s new weapon in his battle to get us out of our room,’ Fenris grumbled darkly. ‘I will get back at him for this. It’s definitely not my favourite way to wake up. This means war.’

He sat up again and out of the corner of her eye Hawke saw the young cat guardedly sneaking its way back to him with pricked up ears. She was almost certain she knew what it was going for.

‘Keep talking,’ she said breathlessly.

Fenris threw her a suspicious look. ‘Why? What are you planning this time? I’m not going to play any kind of the kinky games that are brewing in your mind with that furry ogre present.’ He almost jumped when said furry ogre pushed its head against his hand.

‘I think Ser Pounce-a-Lot reacts to your intriguing voice,’ Hawke smiled sweetly. ‘Can’t say I blame him. I recognise the feeling.’ The cat now resonated like a lion in a tin container, at the same time trying to disappear into Fenris’s hand. ‘Ow, he likes you,’ Hawke cooed, ‘that’s sooo cute!’

Fenris glared icicles at her. ‘And at any moment now it will try to disembowel me,’ he growled. It earned him an even louder purr and an affectionate lick of a rough pink little tongue. ‘Stop that,’ he snarled which only encouraged the cat more.

In the end he couldn’t resist the fondness the cat was showing him after their first bad acquaintance. He stroked its soft fur and tickled it under the bony chin which made Ser Pounce-a-Lot turn on its back with all four deadly dangerous paws clawing idly in the air with closed eyes and an expression of utter happiness on its orange little face.

 ‘Alright,’ Fenris gave in, ‘I suppose he is kind of adorable. But we can’t keep him. And I’m still going to kill Varric for it,’ he added ominously.

They managed to wash themselves and get dressed without stumbling over the cat that kept circling around them, exuberantly radiating its affection. It even followed them to the room where breakfast was served. For a change they weren’t the last ones to make their appearance.

‘Andraste’s singed ass, Hawke, what have you done to him?!’ Varric cried out, looking at the scratches on the elf’s cheek. ‘You’re supposed to tear open his back, not his face!’

Fenris shot him a venomous look before he flopped down on the first available free seat. ‘I think you know perfectly well what happened.’ He lifted Ser Pounce-a-Lot, that was still rubbing his leg, by the scruff. ‘I know this was your doing. Be prepared to find a viper in your bed, one of these night.’

‘As a matter of fact, it was my idea,’ an unknown voice broke in.

Hawke, who had sat down next to Fenris, turned her head from the endearing cat to the owner of the voice. If she was honest, she never had thought about what a member of the Dead Legion would look like. She’d never imagined, however, she would look like this. To her own irritation she caught herself gawking at the dwarven woman opposite her. There was a striking contrast between the intimidating dark tattoos covering her face and the friendly look in her eyes. Not to mention her warm mellow voice. She tried to hide her embarrassment by stroking the cat that was dangling defencelessly in Fenris’s hand. ‘That’s hard to believe,’ she managed to mumble.

‘Ah!’ Varric’s broad grin almost split his face in two; of course he noticed her confusion and embarrassment and didn’t hesitate one moment to take advantage of it. ‘Hawke, meet Sigrun, member of an exterminated section of the Dead Legion, Grey Warden to boot and originating from Dust Town, as you can see.’

She didn’t see at all and wanted to strangle him for his smugness but restrained herself and instead clung onto his last words. ‘Dust Town ..?’

‘The bad part of Orzammar. Picture the Undercity but then filled with dwarves,’ Varric clarified.

Hawke forced a smile. ‘That must have been a hard life.’

‘Even harder than being a part of the Legion,’ Sigrun agreed.

In the meantime Ser Pounce-a-Lot managed to wriggle himself free and nestled on Fenris’s lap with a contented snort.

‘The little bugger seems to have taken a liking to you,’ Varric observed with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘I thought that was already obvious,’ Fenris grumbled, directing at his molested cheek.

‘I’m really sorry about that,’ Sigrun said meekly, ‘it was more or less meant as a joke. Varric was complaining about how difficult it is to get you out of a room with a bed in it, so I suggested making use of Ser Pounce-a-Lot. He’s always keen on sneaking up on you while you’re sleeping and wake you up.’

‘In that case he did a wonderful job,’ Hawke said cheerfully and finally Fenris relaxed. He shook his head but couldn’t hide the crooked smile that unfolded on his face.

‘I understand you wanted to speak with me ..?’ Sigrun asked hesitantly, apparently eager to change the subject.

Hawke gratefully accepted a cup of coffee a servant brought her. ‘Yes. About an amantium mine my father wrote about.’ She hoped Varric had at least revealed something about their reason of being in Vigil’s Keep. She didn’t feel like explaining everything from scrap.

‘Amantium? I thought that metal was mythical.’ Sigrun sounded genuinely astonished. So no, not much of an explanation on Varric’s account.

‘Right,’ complained Varric that very moment in his ale, ‘apparently every dwarf but me seems to know about the exciting metal.’

‘At the risk of sounding offensive,’ Sigrun said carefully, ‘you don’t act like a dwarf. You hardly look like one, what without a beard and the stern expression.’

‘Yes, you’re not the first one to mention that. But don’t worry, I don’t care. Don’t be afraid you’ll rise my hackles. The Ancestors, Andraste, the Stone or the Maker’s place, wherever that may be; it’s all two peas in a pot to me. Different sized maybe, but still.’ Varric emptied his mug and waved to attract the attention of a servant. Within no time a fresh mug filled with foaming ale appeared as out of thin air.

‘Well, _that_ , of course, is utterly dwarfish,’ Sigrun snickered. ‘You’re even worse than Ohgren when it comes to imbibing ale.’

‘I don’t see you drink the stuff and you’re a dwarf,’ Varric replied.

‘Oh, I do like ale, only not at breakfast.’ Sigrun turned her attention again at Hawke. ‘I’m sorry, we were talking about amantium.’

Hawke held up her left hand on which she wore the ring. She smiled ruefully. ‘Amantium is not that mythical. I carry a piece of it around though I must confess I only found that out just a while ago.’

Sigrun’s eyes grew wide. ‘May I see that closer?’

Hawke reacted somewhat reluctantly. ‘Do you know what the metal does? I don’t want to take the ring off. You may throw a look upon it, touch it, taste it if you want, but the bloody thing stays on my finger. I still don’t know what will happen when I get separated from it.’ She offered her hand to the dwarven Grey Warden across the table.

Carefully Sigrun touched the ring with one finger. ‘As far as I understand the metal is, er, how shall I put it, magic numbing.’

Marian grimaced. ‘It doesn’t influence the magic as such. It dissolves the mana in your veins which has, of course, almost the same effect. But only in combination with two certain runes my father developed or invented or whatever.’

‘Really?’ Sigrun let go of Hawke’s hand. ‘That seems like quite the trick. I didn’t know that but, then again, dwarves aren’t very interested in magic or lyrium,’ she said with an apologetic smile, ‘except when we have the chance to smuggle it, of course. I suppose that’s the reason why we’ve never actively searched for that mine. Besides the fact we thought it was non-existent.’

‘My father convinced one of your members of the Legion to look for it. He even gave him a map he copied from an old book. Captain Kardol. Do you know him?’

Sigrun looked pensively. ‘I’ve heard about him. He serves in the tranches under Ostagar. Didn’t he fight with the Hero at Denerim? Ah yes, he did, that was him, I remember now. He became some kind of legend. That was really a happening: a whole contingent of the Legion going topside to battle! The rest of us didn’t know to think it very brave or utterly foolish.’

‘I bet the Assembly are still bickering over it,’ Varric smirked. ‘After all, bickering is their favourite pastime.’

‘The Assembly are always bickering over something,’ Sigrun agreed. She reached for a piece of bread and spread it with butter. She took a bite, still with that contemplating look on her tattooed face. ‘I confess I still don’t understand why you came all the way from Denerim to speak with me. I mean me, specifically. I’m not that important.’

Hawke sipped slowly from her hot coffee and put the mug back on the table. ‘I was hoping you’d know more about the mine, what with having been a member of the Legion of the Death,’ she said. ‘As far as understand, you’re the only living person who’s not hooked up with fighting Darkspawn in the depth of the earth at this very moment. And besides that, I was also hoping you’d be willing to accompany us on our search.’ Sigrun raised her eyebrows, looking astonished. ‘In fact, that was an idea of Wynne and the Queen,’ Hawke added lamely.

To her relief Sigrun lifted a corner of her mouth. ‘I take it they were reluctant to let you enter the Deep Roads without a Grey Warden.’ But then her face darkened again. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you with the location of the mine, I really have no idea where that might be. But if the Commander will allow it, I’ll gladly come with you. Could I see that map?’ Somewhere in the depth of her mind a thought emerged. A memory. An encounter, shared with the former Commander. She pushed it aside. That couldn’t be true. It was too preposterous.

‘Naturally you can.’ Again Marian conjured the peace of parchment bound in leather out of her armour and showed it to Sigrun. The dwarven Grey Warden studied it carefully. ‘What are those scrambles?’

‘That’s my father’s handwriting. Code language.’

Sigrun looked up. ‘He was thorough, wasn’t he? Very reluctant to share his findings.’ Hawke just nodded with a faint smile. ’I recognise the spot. The Frost Mountains. Indeed that’s Kardol’s territory. Not mine, I’m afraid. But since I’m familiar with the Deep Roads, we could accomplish something. If that mine exists, then we’ll find it. ’

Hawke’s smile broadened. ‘I hoped you would say that.’

‘Hey! Will you stop clawing at my legs, you little hairball?’ Fenris suddenly protested. ‘You’re ruining my breeches.’

‘Ah, someone has a crush on the elf,’ Varric wickedly grinned. ‘I should be careful if I were you, Hawke. Before you know it that _little hairball_ has taken your place.’

Marian ignored him. ‘Just for the record,’ she said to Sigrun, ‘Anders told me the Grey Wardens forced him to give his cat away. So what is Sir Pounce-a-Lot still doing here?’

Sigrun stared at her with wide eyes. ‘You know Anders?!’

‘Yes. He fled to Kirkwall. He runs a clinic there. So what about his cat?’

Sigrun chortled. ‘Well, he _was_ right. Nathaniel said the animal was making him weak. So Anders brought him to his sister in Amaranthine. But to our astonishment the bugger turned up about a month later in the Keep again. Apparently he escaped his new home and found the way back on his own account. We were in awe of his accomplishment and decided he could stay as the Keep’s mouser and mascot. A pity Anders already left at that time. How is he doing? Still chasing after the girls, killing Templars and making witty inappropriate remarks?’

Fenris produced a sound between choking and laughing and Marian just stared unbelievingly at the dwarf. ‘Are you certain we are talking about the same Anders?’

Sigrun’s face clouded over. ‘Oh, don’t tell me he merged with that creepy spirit.’

‘He definitely did,’ Fenris stated firmly, ‘and I don’t think he got the better end of the bargain.’

Sigrun groaned silently. ‘Oh that idiot.’

‘That’s one way to put it,’ Fenris rumbled viciously. Whatever had happened, whoever Anders might have been before he invited Justice into his mind or body or both, there would never be a way he would trust him. His former cat, however, was a different matter. Sir Pounce-a-Lot decided it was time for bonding; he got up on his four paws and pushed his head against Fenris’s chin, purring loudly.

‘He _does_ take a liking to you,’ Sigrun grinned.

Marian thought it would be best to let this part of all the stories they would share with their friends back home being untold. But just one look at Varric’s fervent scribbling made her realize that was an idle intention. She sighed inwardly; Justice wouldn’t care, but Anders certainly would explode. His cat in love with Fenris. The mere thought would kill him.

-

Titia was having a difficult time. She was used to following orders, but not being treated as one of the grey mass. She almost felt like a slave. She had disguised herself as a servant because servants had access to all the rooms in the building they were supposed to be serving. And so she found out very soon about the destination of her mistress’s goals. But she hated being bossed around and found it difficult on more than one occasion to swallow her pride. At last, at the end of a few stressful days, she could slip away back to Amaranthine to report where the – extended – group was headed. At that time she almost felt sorry for the small elf named Orana, and her fellow slave. And not only because she knew what would become of them, should they succeed in luring Fenris in. She caught herself feeling sorry for both elves. For what they had to endure.

Hadriana, completely unaware of her apprentice’s thoughts, smiled thinly. ‘Time to move,’ she said, ‘and catch the prey.’

Titia avoided her arrogant look. She was shocked to find out she hated her.

-

Two days later they were on their way. With Sigrun. Since there was no immediate threat of Darkspawn on the surface, Nathaniel Howe had seen no reason to decline the dwarf’s request to go with Marian Hawke and her remarkable band of companions, to assist her in her quest of chasing after her father’s heritage. And because it was about Malcolm Hawke, Carver had been given permission to join them as well. To be honest, Marian had an ambivalent feeling about that. She could only hope her brother had indeed changed in the few months he had spent with the Grey Wardens and they would be spared his barbed comments.

The first part of their journey went smoothly. Soon after that the hills appeared, growing taller and swiftly changing into mountains. Sigrun acted like a guide and led them through passes and over small paths they would have avoided without her knowledge. But here they were, climbing after her, letting her take the lead instead of Hawke. The only one who appeared to suffer was Fenris. More than once he looked over his shoulder, growing tighter by the mile.

Someone was following them, he knew for sure, and it wasn’t good news.

-

By now they were on the road for almost a week. They had been making camp several times already, but never before Fenris had been this nervous. He at least had been able to conceal it before, but not anymore.  He kept restlessly pacing around the camp with a taut demeanour. Now and again he stood still, listening intensely as if he was expecting something would spring out of the bushes at any moment. Finally Hawke couldn’t take it any longer and she caught up with him. ‘What’s bothering you?’

He stared into the distance. ‘I can’t shake off the feeling something is wrong.’

‘Wrong in like “bandits are about to assault” or “any moment now the Deep Roads are going to swallow us” kind of danger?’

He turned to her and looked her straight in her eyes. ‘No, more like a “Hadriana is nearby” feeling,’ he blurted out with a glare that brooked no retort.

Varric had also seen Fenris’s uncomfortable composure and had followed Hawke, partly out of curiosity and partly out of worry. ‘Oh please elf,’ he called out, ‘it’s this kind of paranoid thinking that gave you an almost dead experience in the first place.’

Fenris straightened his back. ‘I want to scout the surrounding area once more,’ he said stubbornly, ‘just to be certain.’

Hawke saw the determined expression on his face and knew she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of this. ‘I come with you.’

‘You don’t have to –‘

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Are you so scared something will happen to me again?’ he said, half mocking.

‘No. Or yes, but that’s not the point. I want to show you I believe you, that I don’t doubt your concern.’

His eyes softened and he laid a hand on her cheek. ‘Let’s go then,’ he said.

‘Oh well,’ Varric mumbled while he saw them disappear, ‘let’s forgo the epic love story and start with a heroic poem about the tragic downfall of two brave lovers who defend each other to the death.’

‘What are you muttering, Story Weaver?’ Zevran, who came lazily strolling in his direction, asked. ‘Some problem I can help you with?’

‘I highly doubt that, Honey-boy, unless you have a good grounding in the intriguing art of belles-lettres.’

‘You would be surprised. And really, _honey-boy_?’ Zevran raised his brow in an amused way.

Varric wrinkled his own brow as an answer. He liked the Antivan elf. ‘I’ve heard Isabela on several occasions ask, or rather demand or plead if you will, that you’d give her honey. Add that to the colour of your skin, et voila. Honey-boy.’

Zevran contemplated the dwarf’s words. ‘I don’t object to the honey, I do, however, object to the boy part.’ He tried to look stern but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

Varric smirked. ‘I suppose I could call you honey- _man_ , but that would sound as if we constantly have to be on our guard against bee stings.’ He cocked his head and started to snicker. ‘Although that does have potential.’

Zevran stared at him for a few moments before a broad grin appeared on his face. ‘I’m not that easily insulted, my short friend. As long as I know for myself that my hot-blooded queen of the sea doesn’t surrender her ignited body in delighted anticipation because of mere _stings_ , I’m happy with my performance.’

Varric’s eyebrows almost vanished into his hair. ‘I must say, Honey-boy, that wasn’t bad, not bad at all. Maybe I will use that at some time.’

Isabela suddenly popped up at Zevran’s side, followed by Carver who looked disturbed if not grumpy. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked. ‘And what are those two up to?’ She pointed at Hawke and Fenris who just rounded a corner, getting out of sight.

‘Ach, Fenris is having one of his attacks of paranoia,’ Varric said in a light tone. ‘He thinks that Hadriana is nearby. He insisted on checking the vicinity and Hawke agreed on accompanying him.’

‘That, or they have something completely different in mind,’ Isabela said with a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. ‘I think they succeeded in leading you about the bush. A whole lot of bushes as a matter of fact,’ she added, looking around.

‘Hmm,’ Varric hummed pensively, ‘keeping in mind the show they put on play in the Deep Roads, you might be right. I bet Junior here still has nightmares about that heated performance.’

‘Shut up, dwarf,’ Carver grumbled, ‘don’t remind me of it. It was worse than my joining ritual.’

‘Ooh, the little brother got his soul damaged,’ Isabela crooned. ‘Come on, and let’s see if we can catch them in the act, _Honey-boy.’_ She winked at Varric. ‘I like that one.’

Carver rolled his eyes. ‘The bloody wench really has only one topic she’s interested in,’ he complained to the world.

‘You shouldn’t forget about the booze and booty but in general you’re right,’ Varric agreed.

 -

In the end Isabela’s decision to follow Hawke and Fenris turned out to be a very good one. Nobody knew about Hadriana’s moves until it was too late.

 -

In the meantime something – or was it _someone_ stirred beneath the surface. Unseen eyes were following them. All of them. ‘Interesting,’ it hummed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is inevitable, of course, that they will meet Hadriana, that's no surprise. The way how, however...
> 
> Thank you for reading and for your kudos and comments!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning before you read this chapter: there will be angsty scenes.  
> And it has become rather long. But, then again, I could, with the best of wills, not split this in two parts. Too many important things happen, and happen fast.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 31

 -

Hadriana tried to make it as comfortable for herself as possible on the unyielding rocky floor. Normally she would have protested against any environment that lacked even the slightest form of luxury, but now she felt more than willing to endure the unpleasant circumstances. The hunt was almost at its end. She spared a quick look at her wrist where a near visible thin white line marked the reason for her confidence. The line would disappear within a few days as all the other lines that had born witness of wielding blood magic had done before. But this time wielding blood magic had not been an exercise. This time all the hard learned lessons had been put into practice. Finally her teacher’s pet had been close enough to bring him under her spell; this time it had bound him to her influence. She never had used blood magic on him before, Danarius hadn’t let her, but she was certain that now it would earn her his eternal gratitude. It would give her the entrance to the Magisterium. A cold cruel smile played around the corners of her mouth. The little wolf _and_ his intriguing mate within her grasp. Danarius would be more than content. She could almost taste his approval and satisfaction the moment she would return with his prized slave and the woman he had chosen; that strange mage that didn’t know how to cope with her magic.

She looked up when Titia approached her. Her young apprentice wore a disturbed expression that she vainly tried to hide.

‘What’s troubling you?’

‘Forgive me, but how can you be so sure you’re plan will work?’

Hadriana’s smile broadened. ‘Because I know Fenris. Because I put a spell on him. As we speak, he is looking for me. And we will trap him.’ Her smile changed into a scowl and she snapped, ‘Have you learned nothing, you dumb nitwit?!’

Titia bent her head. ‘Of course I did, milady,’ she mumbled.

Hadriana languidly stretched her long legs and called out for the captain of the army. ‘Marcellius! I take it everything has been prepared?’

The captain bowed respectfully. ‘Exactly as you ordered it, Mistress Hadriana. The sentinels are at their post, the trap is ready to spring.’

Hadriana turned to Titia. ‘See, nothing can go wrong, it’s just a matter of time. Now go get me a goblet of wine.’

The apprentice threw a quick glance at the two elven slaves, cowering in a corner. She was quite certain what was about to happen to them and she couldn’t help feeling sorry, especially for the young girl Orana who bore the frightened expression of a cornered rabbit. During the journey she had started to dislike Hadriana, a dislike that felt close to hatred. She had never been very fond of her but, then again, although the woman might be her tutor, she didn’t have to like her. Despite her aversion she always had done her best to please and obey her. After all, she was the mage her father had chosen for her, the one that would teach her everything to succeed him in the end. She was well aware Hadriana tended to treat her slaves badly, particularly when she was in a foul mood, although she seldom had witnessed it. But she had heard rumours and whispers and, above all, she had heard the ones that had been spread about Danarius’s pet they were now after and what her tutor had done to him. It had given her shivers. She didn’t object to slavery as such, she didn’t know better than that a society couldn’t work without it, but she was born and raised in a household that had a mild attitude towards their slaves. She had to admit she often had turned a blind eye while living in Hadriana’s mansion, but during this trip she couldn’t ignore the stifled cries of the two “servants” when Hadriana whipped them behind closed doors, nor the tense demeanour of the elder woman named Ardinia and the terrified look of Orana. But there was little she could do for them.

-

Hawke and Fenris were carefully picking their way over the steep slopes around the clearing where they and their band had set camp.

Hawke cast a look at the sky while she and Fenris stalked through the thick forest, trying not to slip or stumble. The sun was setting and it wouldn’t be long before night would fall. And it would fall fast in the mountains. They had been wandering around for about an hour right now, searching for signs or tracks without finding any.

‘You must think I’m an utter fool,’ said Fenris, all of a sudden.

Hawke wrinkled her brow. ‘Why on earth would I think that?’

‘The other time when I ran off to find Hadriana it – didn’t end that well. And just like then, I now also don’t have any proof she is nearby or even following us ... it’s just a nagging hunch that won’t leave me alone. Like a nasty itch that won’t go away.’

‘You have much more insight in Danarius’s and that bitch’s train of thought than anyone else,’ Hawke said softly.

Fenris smiled ruefully, ‘Sadly true.’

She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. ‘Have you any idea what you’re looking for?’

‘No, but I am positive I will recognise it the moment I’ll see it.’ The nagging feeling he had mentioned disturbed him highly; in Denerim he had reasoned that after all the failures of unsuccessful and now very dead slave hunters and the double-crossing Antivan assassin, Danarius only had had one option left. It had been logical thinking. But now he had the eerie impression he could feel Hadriana’s presence nearby. ‘She has a way of making clear she is around. She is too arrogant to use stealth. It will be easy to find her and put an end to her existence.’ He not only tried to reassure Marian but also himself. It was as if something was pulling at his brain. He didn’t like it.

The knot in Hawke’s stomach tightened. Fenris looked very tense and she feared for what he should do if he encountered one of his former tormenters.

At this height firs and deciduous trees stood amongst each other; a lazy wind was rustling through the branches and they were trotting over a tapestry of last season needles and moulded leaves, skirting moss encrusted boulders that had long time ago rolled down from the higher peaks of the mountains that surrounded them. A sound startled them but it turned out to be a stag that stared at them for one moment with fear and curiosity mixed together, before it darted away. Marian started when a hare jumped out of the blue across their path. Fenris grasped her hand.

‘I’m making you afraid with my assumptions.’

She took a gulp of air. ‘No. Just watchful. If you’re right and Hadriana is nearby, we should be extra careful. Stealth or no stealth, she is dangerous.’

Fenris gave out a snort and embraced her for a short moment. ‘You are right.’ And then he grew rigid. ‘There it is,’ he whispered, ‘the sign.’

Marian looked puzzled but Fenris kneeled down near a spot that looked just like some shrubbery that had grown against a rocky mountain wall.

‘A ward,’ he mumbled, ‘a magic ward of protection and I recognise this one. It’s hers, it bears her signature.’ He inhaled sharply. ‘She used those when she locked me with her in her bedchamber to keep everyone else out.’ He added grimly, ‘But don’t worry, I know how to disarm it.’

Marian cringed inside but tried not to show it. _If I get that viper in my hands I will strangle her, very slowly._

Fenris brushed the bushes aside and revealed a small opening. ‘A cave,’ he said breathlessly. ‘She’s here.’

Marian suddenly grew very cold. ‘I think we should warn the others before we do something rash.’

‘No! I want to scout this cave. I want to be certain before we sound the alarm.’ His argument was reasonable enough but a strange light shone in his eyes and it scared her. Last time he thought to go after Hadriana he had been angry, now he seemed possessed.

‘Fenris, wait,’ she pressed urgently but he already crouched through the gap. She had no choice than to follow him. She swore under her breath.

The crack in the rock gave access to a rather large room. The ceiling and walls were covered with something that looked like lichen and cast a shimmering sickly kind of light. It reflected off Fenris’s silvery moonlike hair and seemed to make his markings glow. The lurking danger was almost palpable and it made Hawke shiver. Fenris’s body went taut and the glance in his eyes became feverish. Marian looked warily at him. She did like nor trust his strange demeanour; something was very wrong. He tilted his head as if he was tasting the air and then without hesitation marched to a narrow passage at the other side of the room.

‘Fenris, please, take care ...’

‘I _am_ careful,’ he snapped and she hurried after him, hoping to prevent him from doing something utterly stupid.

Suddenly a blood curdling scream sounded. Fenris started running.

‘No!’ Hawke yelled, fearing the worst.

The next moment they got surrounded by an evil smelling green gas. Her eyes began to water and the she felt nauseous and dizzy. She staggered, reaching for the wall to stay upright but failed. Almost immediately everything went black.

-

Isabela giggled excited when she and Zevran saw the two lovers disappear behind a shrubbery into the mountainside. ‘Oh, the sly ones! I thought it would never happen but it looks like they finally have found the perfect spot! Come on!’ And she started dragging the Antivan elf with her.

‘I can’t wait to see what they’re doing that brings about such a racket that half of the Keep is talking about it and makes the other half blush,’ he smirked.

But at the moment they wanted to crawl through the gap, a terrible screech sounded that held them back for a heartbeat. Directly after that Isabela pressed on and crept through the opening, followed by Zevran. At first they couldn’t see anything because of some kind of swirling gas that seem to come from the other side of the room but then they could distinguish half a dozen men in uniform, their faces covered with some cloth, dragging away the still bodies of Hawke and Fenris.

‘Shit!’ the pirate queen cursed under her breath. ‘They walked right into a trap!’ With a lot of effort she stifled a cough and she signalled at Zevran to get out.

‘I know those emblems,’ she hissed when they were once again in the open, fresh air.

‘Yes,’ Zevran said darkly, ‘Tevinter slave hunters. It seems Fenris was right after all and Hadriana is here. And I know that gas too. It will keep them unconscious for quite a while. We have to get back to camp as fast as possible and warn the others.’

They tried to make as much haste as they could over the slopes under the darkening sky.

-

Hawke awoke with a splitting headache and a burning throat. She stirred and realized she was tied up. Besides that, her armour was stripped off. She was lying on a hard stony floor, her hands bound behind her back which didn’t add to her comfort. Her head was pounding and she tried to remember what had happened. A cave ... a scream ... filthy gas ... With a jolt she opened her eyes. At first everything spun around but when she finally was able to focus, she discovered she was in yet another cave, bigger than the first one and lighted with fires and torches. She turned her head and found Fenris lying next to her. His armour was also removed and just as she, he was tied up. A small trickle of blood had seeped out of his hair and had dried on his cheek. Apparently he had regained consciousness some time earlier and he was glancing at her. He looked desperate.

‘Marian,’ he mouthed, ‘I’m so sorry.’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t be, love,’ she whispered, ‘this is not your fault. Something, something was wrong.’

At the same moment she felt a scorching pain raging through her body as if every inch of her skin got burned. In vain she tried to smother a scream. Fenris cried out at the sight of her predicament. ‘No!’

‘Did I give you permission to speak, cur?’ Hadriana’s high pitched voice tortured her ears, ‘I didn’t think so.’ She came into sight and Hawke stared at a tall slender woman with long black hair and evil piercing blue eyes in a long small face.

Marian realized the nightmare of Fenris’s former life knew about her hidden magic. The pain was so forceful it took all of her self-control to handle it. But she wouldn’t give this harpy the pleasure of showing her her agony. She hardly heard Fenris’s cry. Hadriana managed to bring all her disguised powers up in just a heartbeat and use it against her. She felt all the forces that were sleeping somewhere in the Fade race through her and Hadriana somehow twisted them to hurt her beyond bearing. And the moment she thought she could breathe again, Hadriana did it anew with a sadistic grin on her cold thin lips. This time Marian couldn’t stifle a groaned yelp of anguish. Fire, ice, kinetic energy, stone and earth, it all rained down on her. Or rather it seemed to rip her apart from the inside out. She tasted the iron tang of blood in her mouth, although she didn’t know if that viper had brought it up, or that she had bitten her tongue. And if that was not enough, the sharp pain of a whip lashed over her abdomen which made her cringe. She vigorously bit her lip and tasted more blood. The moment she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, the pain out of the sudden stopped. And then she saw the bitch turn to Fenris and she panicked. _Keep your filthy hands off him!_ she wanted to yell but she could only produce a hoarse grunt.

Hadriana caressed the elf’s skin with the thin leather of the whip, letting it meander over his arms and chest.

‘And what about you-‘

‘Once more, just one more time you hurt her, you die,’ the elf gritted through clenched teeth. _No, love!_ she wanted to cry but she was too late. This time Hadriana didn’t use her whip but let his markings flare. She cackled when he tried to hide his pain.

‘Oh, I will have so much fun with you two!’

‘Danarius will want us to be alive and unharmed,’ Fenris ground hoarsely.

Hadriana’s cold cackle climbed a notch. ‘Don’t you worry! I can torture you, tease you beyond limits and he will never know it!’ She stooped over his limp body. ‘Do you remember the sweet times we had together?’ she whispered just loud enough for Hawke to hear. ‘The times you made me scream in ecstasy? The times I used your body to please me? I bet your little hawk doesn’t know about those events. Shall we show her what we did?’ She kneeled down beside him and stroked his manhood through the leather of his leggings. She turned her head to look at Marian with triumphant glittering eyes. ‘He’s mine, little hawk, he has always been mine and always will be. There’s nothing you can do about that.’ Fenris made an attempt to roll away from her but she again made his markings flare; he winced violently and his body contorted. She grabbed his throat with one hand, almost choking him. ‘Did you really think you could threaten or even deny me, _little wolf_?’ The icy sound of her voice matched the menacing glare in her eyes. And then her lips folded in one of her thin cruel smiles. ‘I think I have just the right punishment for you.’ Without taking her eyes off him, she called out to the captain of her army. ‘Marcellius! Have your way with the little whore; it will be your reward for catching them so neatly.’ Fenris frenziedly started wrestling but Hadriana fastened her grip on his throat and he almost suffocated.

Wide-eyed Hawke saw a burly red haired man approaching her with a wide, malicious grin on his face. He was already unbuttoning his trousers. He kneeled beside her and cut the bonds that tied her ankles. Immediately she kicked at him but he had anticipated that and caught her leg with ease. He laughed. ‘I can see I will have a very pleasant time fucking you. I like my women fighting back.’ In a flash it brought up a terrible memory.

She went limp. Recollections of that gruesome occurrence from years ago started swirling through her mind, enlarged and grotesque. And very clear.

_His smile broadened when he ripped off her trousers. He pushed her legs open and groped between her bared thighs with one hand; the other one was on her throat. ‘How pliant you are. What an obedient little bird,’ he laughed coarsely. ‘I bet I will have a pleasant time fucking you.’ She could feel his breath, stinking of cheap sour alcohol and onions, washing over her face._

_‘Marian! No!’ her mother screamed from somewhere far away. From another world._

_Forcefully he pushed inside her and started to pound remorselessly, hurting her like mad. His breathing became ragged and urgent, enclosing her even more with his stench, until after a loud groan he pulled out of her, only to be replaced by another foul reeking, eager male. Time ceased to exist, she didn’t know how long it went on. In the end she found herself in a crumpled heap on the wooden floorboards._

_‘Do something!’ she heard her brother roar. ‘You idiot! Do something!’ She looked up to see her father being slashed open; his intestines tumbled out of his stomach. She couldn’t move; she just watched, horrified, paralysed, as if she was disconnected from the world of the living. As if an invisible barrier stood between her and reality. And all the time her mother kept screaming from that other world...from the other side of that barrier..._

His hand fumbled with the laces of her trousers. She couldn’t move, she just watched, horrified, paralysed, as if – 

And then, with sudden white-hot force, anger struck. Struck hard. _No! Not again! I will not be a victim again! I will fight. For the both of us!_

She closed her eyes and concentrated. The moment she tapped into the Fade, she found, to her amazement, the way wide open. In a flash she realized that Hadriana, unintentionally, must have removed all the blockades when she used her hidden abilities against her to torture her. The abilities of which that Tevinter bitch, in all her arrogance, thought she was not able to wield. _The ignorant and feeble witch_. She almost pitied her, but this was no time for pity.

Without thinking she plunged in and lashed out. Cold primal rage filled her. _Not again. Never again._ For the first time in her life she could hear the pleading whispered promises of demons and saw their whirling flowing forms closing in on her. Dashing desire, flaming rage, shades of hunger and sloth, brightly scaled pride, they all tried to seduce and tempt her, thinking she was an easy prey in her suffering. But they didn’t scare her. She looked down on them with scorn and contempt. They were less than insects that got drawn to the dancing candle flame that would consume them. She paid them no heed, didn’t have to. She didn’t need their empty deceptive pledges. She was stronger than all of them together. She stood far above them, _she_ would enslave _them_. Absentmindedly she reached for them to make use of their energy and felt her power grow while they crumbled, in vain trying to scurry out of her way when they found out their mistake. The bonds around her wrists dissolved on her command and she arose.

There was no other word for it.

She arose like a goddess from old, engulfed by a bright, almost blinding white light, her golden hair streaming around her head like an enthralling aura, her sapphire eyes ablaze with power and wrath.

‘You shall not touch me.’ Her voice bore a thunderous echo of immeasurable strength and supremacy that clamoured through the cave and bounced off the walls. The captain, so self-confident not a moment before, grew cold with horror and tried to scramble out of her way. She froze him with a flick of her fingers. With another, near absent-minded flick, he shattered into numerous shards. She stretched out her arm at Hadriana, the palm of her hand turned outwards. ‘You shall not touch _him_ ,’ she announced, still with that resonating deep voice that seemed to emerge from another realm. The Tevinter mage got whirled away, helplessly flying through the air, smashing onto the unyielding stone floor. For a few heartbeats she lay motionless, then the will of survival took over. She willed herself on her feet.

Fenris could only stare at Marian in fear and with utmost awe. _Now I know what drove Malcolm Hawke_ , he thought in a strangely quiet place in his head while he open-mouthed witnessed her transformation from a frightened girl into an avenging entity. _Now I know why he was so scared. A mage that can change, shape and destroy the world. Great Maker, how right he was_.

And then reality kicked in. Whatever had happened that had stirred Marian’s numbed powers into life and pushed her to this height, she would not last for long. She still bore that ring. He had to do something. And then he realized he was no longer tied up. She must have freed him of his bonds at the same time she removed hers. He roared into action and dived after Hadriana. Right now she was the biggest threat. The mage had managed to get up and even to surround herself with a protective shield. Behind it she stared at him with a combination of dread, insolence and arrogance. She was not beaten yet.

In the meantime Hawke wreaked havoc on the soldiers who were deprived of their commander and didn’t know how to react to all the unexpected occurrences that were happening right now. They were tumbling over each other to get out of the way of the embodiment of vengeance that now turned on them. ‘I bet you thought you were next! How many innocent girls have you raped already?!’ It was not a booming voice as such, but it pierced their ears and brains nevertheless and paralysed them. Hawke raised her arms and out of nothing a thunderstorm came down on them, smashing them down. She didn’t even revel in what she brought about; she just followed her instinct and feelings of anger and regarded the impact with distant eyes.

On the other side of the room Titia had taken the little elf Orana by an arm and pushed her into safety behind a boulder. The girl squealed in horror. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Titia panted, ‘I just want to save you.’ Orana let herself go limp and Titia covered her small body with hers. She heard her mistress call out for her assistance but she didn’t react. Hadriana could fall into pieces, as far as she was concerned. The tattooed elf could rip her heart out or murder her in any other way he saw fit, she wouldn’t move a finger to waylay him. Ardinia was already sacrificed to blood magic to feed Hadriana’s power; she could still hear her desperate scream echoing in her ears, combined with Orana’s terrified shriek. She would not let the small elf become a victim as well.

With a feral growl Fenris circled around Hadriana, who still managed to hold up her protective bubble. Neither of them spoke, they just fiercely held each other’s glares. Behind him he could all the while hear the screams and cries from the soldiers, slave hunters, who were kept busy with Marian’s unleashed fury. He would decide afterwards how he would cope with her staggering conversion – as would she, he suspected. It would not be easy. But that was a problem for another time.

At last Hadriana couldn’t maintain her strength anymore. The shield began to flicker, giving way to her weariness and confusion about all that had happened and under the merciless steely look of the elf she so often had made use of in so many ways.

 Fenris grimaced predatorily. ‘And now you are mine,’ he whispered ominously.

Hadriana remembered he had no need of a weapon to be deadly. Her eyes grew wide. ‘No! You can’t do this!’ she squeaked, watching Fenris reaching for her with a murderous look in his eyes. ‘Titia!’

The apprentice heard her call but didn’t react, she held on to Orana who stirred under her body. ‘Mistress asks for you,’ the young elf squeaked, ‘she needs you! You must answer!’

‘No!’ Titia almost snarled. ‘She is wicked, evil. I will not answer and neither will you. She will kill us both.’ She could smell the elf’s fright – or perhaps it was hers, but she stood strong, pushing the terrified girl down with all her might.

‘She will not come for you,’ Fenris growled with some kind of satisfaction. ‘It seems that you have made more enemies than me and _the little hawk_.’ He spat those last words with much disdain. With all the force he could muster he pushed through the withering defensive shield. And then Hadriana comprehended her apprentice wouldn’t come to her rescue and the elf before her was out for just one thing. But the moment he wanted to push his bare hand through her chest, Hadriana threw herself with a heroic effort to a side to avoid the deadly strike. She managed to wield the staff she still held and hit Fenris with it. The short moment he got distracted, she used to wield a spell that hurled him against the opposite wall. With a sickening crashing sound his skull contacted with the hard rock.

Hawke felt her strength depleting as if she was bleeding dry. She swayed and fell on her knees. She struggled for breath, completely drained. Her blood pounded forcefully in her ears and she hoped with all her might that what she had done was enough. That she had eliminated Hadriana and her army and that Fenris and she could flee this cursed place unscathed. Not moments later she found out that was not the case.

Hadriana jumped up and looked around. Her soldiers, those that weren’t dead, were wasted and Titia was cowering in a corner – she would deal with that disloyal bitch later. On the other hand, Fenris was eliminated and the frightening apparition had once more turned into a frail waif. Good. It seemed she was the victor after all, as it should be. She walked over to Marian Hawke with a determined stride. She was not certain what to do with her. Perhaps she would destroy her here and now, defying Danarius’s orders. She could defend her decision. But it could be much more interesting to enslave her. To break her, to put her to her will. She grinned devilishly, almost tempted by the prospect. But then she heaved her hand to give the woman, who so clearly was spilled, the final blow.

‘You shouldn’t have spent your strength and powers so freely,’ she whispered, ‘now there’s nothing left. Oh dear, what a shame.’ She gave her a magical blow, not half as harsh as she had indented; she also had suffered from the strange unexpected battle but she delighted in the badly concealed flinch.

Hawke looked up at her through bleary eyes. She wanted to fly at her. She had hurt Fenris, marked him for the rest of his life _. I want to strangle her very slowly._ She didn’t want to give in. _Never again._ But the way to the Fade was cut off and she was so very tired. _You never should have give me this ring... now I’ll die because of it..._

Hadriana smirked wickedly. ‘I think I will face Danarius’s anger after all, and be done with you here and now. You are too dangerous. And you stand between me and my wolf. I can’t have that. Because he is mine and mine alone. Do you understand that now? Poor little hawk.’ She almost sounded pitiful and that hurt the most. ‘I could use a spell, but since you prefer to act as a rogue, I think it’ll be only appropriate to use a knife, don’t you agree?’ Somewhere she brought about a dagger and Hawke recognized it as one of her own. She would be killed with her own knife. What was it what Bethany had said? Ah yes, the Maker has a strange sense of humour. _I will be with you soon, sweet sister._

Marian closed her eyes. She had fought as hard as she could. There was no strength left in her. She was dried up, the energy of the Fade all but spent. Any moment now she would feel the final blow.

At the same moment Fenris felt something stir inside his head, something that had been trying to catch his attention for quite a time but that he had ignored because he knew what it was, and thus had very hard tried to ignore. But now he needed it and so he reached for it. The spirit, or what was left of it, or the part that had nestled into his mind, roared its voice, shaking him back to life. He heaved his head. The cracks in his scull disappeared, as glued together, and the throbbing pain dissolved, together with the blurred vision. His markings ignited. He saw Hadriana stoop over Marian’s frame and knew in an instant what she was planning to do. With a deep growl he got on his feet and raced over to her. He knocked her down before she could complete her deed. The dagger flew out of her hand and landed with a faint ringing sound on the floor. She cursed frustrated. She started a chant but Fenris cut her off by throttling her.

He had never felt this alive before. His head was so clear, he could almost literally see the shaken soldiers through the back of his head, crouching with utmost fear. He could feel the extreme exhaustion of Marian without being affected by it.

And he could see right through the lie Hadriana was about to tell, before she even had uttered it. It wasn’t even a lie, not exactly, but it wasn’t the truth either. It was all so transparent.

‘Like I said before, now you are mine,’ he snarled savagely, ‘now you die.’

Hadriana tried to wriggle free. ‘Please, you don’t want me dead!’ she cried. ‘I have important information!’

‘No information you have is important enough,’ he spat at her.

‘Please.’ Hadriana squirmed desperately. ‘You have a sister! I can tell you were she is!’

Fenris stared at her unbelievingly. He realized the spirit already had told him this. Or better: had lighted up a part of his lost memory to warn him. It was a memory that already had lingered on the border of his awareness, flashing on and off, since the first time he had made love to Marian. A memory of a girl with flaming red hair and green eyes like his. ‘Do you really think I will fall for that?! I bloody well _know_ I have a sister.’ It was like he freed a part of himself by uttering those words.

‘But I can you put in contact with her!’ Hadriana pleaded.

And that was the lie. Oh yes, it _was_ all so very transparent. She would never do such a thing.

His grin was similar to that of a skull, cold and lifeless. ‘No, you can’t.’ His hand hovered over her chest.

Hadriana played her last card, screeching hysterically, ‘You can’t kill me! You can’t! You wouldn’t dare! You love me too much!’

Fenris’s brow shot into his moonlike hair. For a moment he was too astounded to react. Then he burst out laughing. ‘ _Love_ you?! You made my life a living hell! I should kill you only for that! But what’s far more important, you harmed the woman I love. You will die for that!’

‘You love me!’ Hadriana insisted pleadingly, writhing under his deadly glare. ‘I’ve _made_ you love me! I made sure of it! I enchanted you!’

He looked upon her and almost felt pity. Dear Maker, she was as ignorant as a maiden and he had never seen it before. But then his anger took over once more. ‘No, witch, I _hate_ you.’

No more words. He grabbed the dagger that lay beside her head and was Marian’s and plunged it into her chest. It seemed more appropriate to kill her with the weapon she had wanted to kill his beloved with, than to end her life with his bare hand. There was just a gasp, and a last incredulous look before the light died in her eyes.

Marian tried to get up and fell helplessly back. The next moment she sensed two strong arms around her, granting her a feeling of momentarily safety.

‘We have to get out of here,’ Fenris said urgently, ‘we can talk about all this later.’ He looked around at the soldiers that slowly but inevitably came back to life; that was, the ones that had still a life to come back to. Too many, he registered in an absentminded way. To run through the throng to the entrance of the cave was no option; they had to flee further in and hope for another exit.  He hauled her on her feet. ‘Please, love.’

He realized she was in no shape to walk. So he took her into his arms and lifted her and started to move to the small corridor that led to no doubt dark and unexplored territories, hoping against all odds to find safety there.

-

Titia heaved her head, following him with anxious eyes. She understood she had soon to use her magic against at least twenty very confused and angry men, while trying to keep an utterly befuddled and scared to the bone elven girl alive.

And then she heard a ruckus as an approaching storm coming up through the entrance of the cave. She thought it prudent to hide somewhat longer behind the boulder to see what would occur this time.

-

And that same time something – or was it _someone_ stirred more strongly beneath the surface, watching them all. It – he – she – watched especially Fenris who was struggling to get Marian into safety.

A soft low mumble was heard. ‘Remarkable.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep exhale ... it wasn't easy to write this chapter whithout plunging too deep in several emotions; there will be time for that later. I hope the angsty part wasn't too much. At least now it is clear why Malcolm Hawke invented those runes. 
> 
> To be continued, of course. And I can't stress enough how much I appreciate your reading, kudos and comments!


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

-

Fenris stubbornly soldiered on, carrying Hawke along the way. She hung lamely in his arms, her head leaning on his shoulder. She hadn't said a word; he wondered if she was even conscious. There was no lichen in this part of the cave system, at least none of the sort that gave light, so he had ignited his markings to see where he was going. Up till now that hadn't been too difficult; the path was relatively smooth and hadn't forked yet. He didn't hear any sign of a pursuit but although his hearing was very sharp, that was no proof they weren't yet being followed. His head was still aching from the smash against the wall and somewhat reeling from that – from  _that thing_  and what had happened afterwards, but he ignored it. Finally he reached a small underground lake and he carefully put Marian down, with her back resting against a wall. She was breathing shallowly and let out a soft moan. A moment later she turned sharply on her knees and vomited violently into the water. Fenris knelt beside her and gently kept her hair out of her face. When it was over she dipped her head into the lake to clear her thoughts and after that cupped her hands to drink some sips of the cool liquid. He absentmindedly saw the drift of the water and realized the small lake was fed by an underground river. Some stalactites might drop drips of water into the rumpling surface but the water was fed from far beyond. Marian leaned back and he drew her into his arms.

All kinds of disturbing thoughts and feelings were raging through his system. He was annoyed beyond limits with himself that Hadriana so easily had succeeded in getting a hold on his mind with as result the ridiculously childish way he had blundered into her trap; he was scared by the frightening amount of hate she had kindled in him. And last but not least, the way Marian hid risen from the floor like the embodiment of revenge with that unsettling look upon her face, her head encircled with streaming golden hair, slaying dozens of men with just a wave of her hand, and a radiant upsetting blast in her eyes, disturbed him highly. His biggest fear right now was that she had made some pact with a demon, although he was pretty sure she hadn't turn to blood magic. The damn problem was that a mage of her significance didn't  _need_  blood magic to summon demons. She had told him she made use of the energy in the Fade, but what if this time it had been the other way around? She had been terrified, angry and desperate enough to attract a demon – what! to attract a whole battalion of them. Who knows, this time one had slipped passed her defences and possessed her. He himself had stated on several occasions that he believed in her, that he was certain she wouldn't succumb, but this had been an extraordinary situation. He could ask her bluntly but she felt so fragile and vulnerable in his arms he didn't dare. So how to break the subject without breaking her?

She interrupted his distressing musings with a quivering voice. 'You must hate me, now you know what I can do.'

Fenris felt a pang of guilt. 'Oh yes, of course. I hate you. That's why I put so much effort in getting you into safety,' he replied with the most composed and airy voice he could manage. 'Although I have to confess you scared me witless,' he added consciously.

Hawke smiled wanly. 'I can imagine that. I scared myself witless.' She took a trembling breath. 'This was actually the first time I saw and heard them. Those dreadful demons, I mean. And I believe they tried very hard to catch my attention.' She felt him tense. 'But you know what, you were right all along.'

'About ..?'

'About my effect on the fucking bastards. Maker, they were feeble and so transparent in their intensions! And to think I feared them all my life to no end.' She chuckled throatily. 'They indeed wished they could have crawled into a far corner of the Fade with their eyes shut tight and their claws over their ears. Instead I not only sucked the energy out of them, this time I actually killed them.' She laughed shakily and then burst into tears. Fenris pulled her closer and softly stroked her hair and back, even more worried and bewildered.

'I'm sorry,' she sobbed, waving her hand weakly, 'I feel totally wasted. And confused, if not panicky.'

He didn't know what to say so he just kept on caressing her. 'It's alright my love,' he whispered, 'it's alright.' He was frustrated with the hollow sounding platitude but it seemed to sort effect and finally she calmed down.

'Reigniting the fire in the smithy's furnace,' she scoffed with somewhat of her old temperament resonating in her voice. 'Yeah right, quite the feat.'

'You were not much older than a toddler back then, as I well remember the story of the dwarf. It  _was_  quite the feat,' Fenris reacted, trying to sound neutral. 'I imagine your father must have gone out of his mind with fear when he discovered what powers you harbour.'  _I know I did._

'I'm sure he must have. Poor dad.' She shivered forcefully and again broke into tears. ‘I never knew I could be so... so... What _am_ I? Why didn’t he tell me? He just gave me a ring and hoped to be done with it,’ she wailed, ‘to have solved the problem with a few runes!’

Fenris tried to sooth her with incessantly stroking her back. He absolutely didn’t know what to say anymore, not in the least because he still felt utterly shaken himself.

‘What _am_ I?’ cried Marian again, in despair. ‘Some atrocity! Someone who must be locked away without delay! A walking weapon of mass destruction!’

‘No!’ reacted Fenris, shocked. More gently he continued, ‘You’re a powerful mage. A very powerful one. But I believe that’s nothing new. I recognized that before you did.’

‘Yes, but, my father- ‘

‘I’m certain your father would have told you, in the end, if he had ever got the chance,’ he interrupted her. ‘That he would have taught you how to even better manage your powers, at a time you would have been able to understand.’ It was suddenly very clear to him. ‘At a time you would have been older and would have been willing to accept your power and would have been cooperate without going into denial or starting kicking and screaming. But he never _got_ that chance, did he. He was dead before he could tell you.’

To his relief she calmed down. Only a few stray sobs lingered.

Finally she said, timidly, ‘Perhaps you’re right, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But that still doesn’t mean I didn’t scare the living daylight out of me.’ She giggled nervously.

Fenris paused for a few moments, but in the end couldn’t hold back. 'Why did this happen? What brought it on? I thought, because of your ring, you were able to cast only one strong spell before you more or less blacked out.'

Marian, pulling herself together, chortled mirthlessly. 'Hadriana. When she thought to hurt me with my own hidden powers, she removed the barricade and threw the entrance to the Fade wide open.'

Fenris frowned non comprehending. This sounded alarming. 'You're not saying she restored your mana? Demolished the influence of the ring and its runes?'

'No, of course not! My father would have delivered a lousy job if someone would be able to do that. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what happened precisely. I make use of the technique but that doesn't mean I understand it. Normally I have to make a lot of effort to tap into the Fade, great powers or not; it feels like pushing through a narrow tunnel that's also covered with a thick curtain. But this time the way laid wide open, like an inviting brilliant lit portal. I didn't have to push at all; I could leap in. And, one way or another, that was her doing. I should have realized, though, that it would leave me even more tattered and exhausted than usual.' Fenris’s words had made her more confident. Indeed, she _had_ known she was powerful, although not how much, until very recently. And he could be right about her father. She took a breath against his shoulder and felt her heart fall back into its normal pace.

Fenris recognized the irony of it all. 'So, if I understand it right, by torturing you, Hadriana, in fact, signed her own death warrant? Fitting,' he said with a feral grin. He felt very relieved and she noticed it.

She turned in his arms and looked at him. 'You thought I did something extremely unholy.'

He couldn't answer her look. 'Yes,' he whispered, feeling miserable. 'For a moment I did. And I'm sorry.' To his surprise she laughed softly.

'I don't blame you.'

He swallowed hard. 'You don't?'

'No, I must have looked – horrifying.'

'More like awe striking,' Fenris mumbled, 'as in like the personification of doom. I've never witnessed something like that before. The way you handled those thugs back then in that alley seems like a friendly petting in comparison.'

'You see, no wonder you were shocked.'

'But you were right. I always stated I had faith in you and at the first occasion I doubt you,' he said remorsefully. 'And it was I who put you in that position in the first place.'

Hawke groaned inwardly. Yes, she should have seen this coming. The bluish white light of his still ignited markings had brought the crystals in the cave wall come alive and they reflected in his eyes that were filled with regret. She placed a hand on his cheek. 'No, Fenris, don't punish yourself with those kind of ridiculous thoughts. You know that isn't fair.'

'On the contrary,' he snapped, 'I walked open eyed into her trap, driven by hate.' He bowed his head with a pained expression. 'There is still so much hate inside me,' he said in a choked voice.

'You know your love is far stronger than your hate,' Marian said softly.

He looked up and for the slightest of moments his sudden tormented look slit right through her before he tempered it. She shivered. 'Is it?' he whispered. She was still searching for her voice when he took her hand in his. 'I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. Not now. It's not that I don't want to, my head simply is too much in a raging turmoil at the moment.' She nodded understanding. She felt the same. He went on, 'Let's attempt to be practical. I think it's best we try to figure out a way out of these caves without getting lost while staying in one piece. I'm afraid that will be difficult enough, what without any supplies or decent weapons. Not to mention the fact we're not wearing armour. Any ideas?'

Hawke bit her lip. 'I don't fancy wandering around these dark tunnels, Maker knows what we'll encounter. I think we have no choice than to return to where we started from, as cautious as we can, to see if Hadriana's men have left.'

'Are you certain?' said Fenris hesitantly. 'You're in no shape to fight if they haven't.'

'Are you?' she countered. 'I may have been mighty occupied back there but I saw, or rather felt, you crash into that wall.'

'Yes. Well. That –  _that_  intervened again.'

'Oh dear. I suppose you don't want to –'

'No.'

'Right. Let's head back and hope the best of it.'

Fenris let out a sigh. 'I promise, Marian, I will think about – everything –'

'That's quite a lot, even for you. And you have that spirit to settle with.' That was a stupid remark and she knew it. She wanted to smack herself.

His eyes flashed and the crystal sparkles made the silver shine in the green. Her breath hitched. 'Forgive me,' she whispered, 'that was uncalled-for.'

He shook his head and an almost amused but at least understanding smile appeared upon his face. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

'I will think about everything,' he repeated with emphasis and his rough velvet voice crawled down her spine, 'and we will talk about it. At a more convenient time. And I reckon I am not the only one with a lot to contemplate. I think it’s best to let it rest for the moment.' He gave her his treasured crooked smile. ‘Besides that, this is not the best place, let alone time, to have a deep philosophical or psychological discussion.’ He turned her hand and kissed the palm very, very slowly and sensually without breaking their gaze. Her breath hitched some more and her pupils flew wide, even visible in the dim light he cast.

He chortled softly. 'Not now, love and certainly not here.'

'Then don't tempt me, you impossible elf,' Marian grumbled.

'Maybe you should learn to restrain yourself now and again,’ Fenris answered, widening his lopsided smile.

‘Look who's talking,’ she groused under her breath.

With force he suppressed the urge to kiss her; instead he got up and helped her to stand. Her vision blurred and she staggered. Fenris put an arm around her and she had to lean heavily into him until the dizziness faded.

‘Shit,’ she mumbled, ‘I'll be damned if I will use magic ever again.’

They had walked for not more than ten yards when he halted her with pricked up ears; his muscles tensed.

‘I hear something.’ He pushed her against the wall and took a protective stance before her. 'It's coming from further within,' he whispered.

At that very moment a Darkspawn came into sight and Fenris's markings sprung ablaze. Hawke's intestines clenched. Where there was one Darkspawn there were bound to be more, a lot more, and there was little chance they would be able to fight them off, even with the elf's unleashed fury. Despite her resolution Marian tried to tap into the Fade but her knees buckled by the sheer attempt.

And then a fierce white light blinded her eyes and set her head spinning.

'Oh hell, not again,' was the last thought before she lost her consciousness, although this time she seemed to float into oblivion, rather than fall.

-

In the meantime...

From her hiding spot behind the boulder, Titia saw to her amazement some kind of strange ragtag army burst into the cave through the narrow entrance. A young tall man with black hair was the first to storm in; he wore Grey Warden armour and a very grim expression. He was followed by yet another Grey Warden, a female dwarf. For a heartbeat Titia was at a loss; what were Grey Wardens doing here? Had they been about to walk right into a Darkspawn's den without knowing? Surely not every cave was part of or an entrance to the Deep Roads? But then she recognized the dwarf known as Sigrun and the angry young man known as Hawke's brother; she had seen them both at Vigil's Keep. Of course, she understood now, the companions were here to free their friends, though far sooner than expected. She, Hadriana and their army would have had a hard time to outrun them if everything had gone as planned and all those weird events hadn't take place. How was it possible they arrived here so fast? She had not much time to contemplate the riddle because immediately the battle commenced. Voices roared, bolts and arrows whined, daggers flew, she could sense magic being used. She had to give it to the twenty surviving soldiers they recovered fast and fought valiantly but then again, they were hand-picked and well trained. For a moment she was in two minds. Hadriana was dead already, Fenris and Hawke had escaped. And although she didn't feel any remorse for the passing of her tutor, it went against the grain with her to see the soldiers being wiped out. On the other hand, she didn't want Fenris's companions being killed either; there had been more than enough bloodshed already. But she suspected that if she'd step in to make an appeal on the common sense, her own lifespan would be very short. So she decided to stay put and to defend herself and protect Orana. The poor elven girl was trembling all over her small body and made an effort to disappear into Titia's robes.

'Don't forget, Junior, we're keeping score!' Varric bellowed over the din.

'Cut the crap, dwarf! I'm trying to save my sister,' Carver yelled back. He parried the sword of a Tevinter. He feigned a lunge at the legs but at the same time stepped back and aside, bringing his weapon up with great speed. The soldier missed his head at a hair's breadth but in the same move almost lost his balance. Carver's sword caught him in his breast; the steel cut clean through his armour. He punctured his lungs and left his pathetic gurgling enemy crumbling on the floor. He turned and looked for more victims to slaughter. His eyes shone dangerously.

'And what about you, big boy?' Varric shouted at Berran. 'In for a little competition?'

'Save your games for playing cards, Varric,' the Seeker responded gruffly while he ran an opponent through with his sword, 'this is serious business.'

'Spoilsport,' Varric grumbled. 'Come on, Bianca, let's show them!'

Isabela and Zevran carved their way through the enemy ranks like flashing shadows; most of their victims didn't know what hit them until it was too late. Wynne stood beside Varric, wielding her staff and casting primal spells.

'As I noticed before, madam, you're a very fine warrior,' the dwarf commented while loosening another bolt.

Wynne chortled. 'That's a rather strange compliment to grace a spirit healer with, don't you think?'

'At least, if your conscience threatens to revolt, you can heal the one you've injured,' Varric grinned broadly. He launched another successful rhyming triplet. 'Ah, Bianca, my beauty! You bring tears to my eyes!'

Sigrun deftly dodged an incoming blow from a shield, twirled and sank her daggers in an unprotected back. While she was struggling to retrieve her weapons, a Tevinter soldier thought to make use of the situation and attacked her. The same moment he got decapitated by Carver, who swung his broadsword roaring as a demon from the Void. It not only pleased him to root out a nest of Tevinter slavers, but, more importantly, he also finally saw his chance to save Marian's hide instead of the other way around. It made him fly.

Titia ducked just in time to avoid getting hit by a stray arrow; the missile glanced off the rocky wall behind her. Orana squealed and screw her eyes shut.

The battle, or better the skirmish, was over within a couple of minutes. A few soldiers had tried to escape via the same route as Hawke and Fenris not long before, but Titia had stopped them by putting a spell of paralysis over them. It had been her only small contribution to the fight. She hadn't killed as such but, at least, she had prevented Danarius’s former slave and his lover being caught up by armed men in the ragged state the two were undoubtedly in. Titia tried to decide what her next step would be, she couldn't keep hiding here; she had no illusion she wouldn't be detected. She deemed it unwise to adopt the arrogant Magister attitude but, on the other hand, she didn't feel like grovelling either. But she didn't get the time to make up her mind about how to act.

Carver looked furiously around in search of his sister who he – of course – didn't spot. Instead his eye fell upon Titia. Definitely a mage and definitely a Tevinter one. If nothing else, her stylish and far too costly robes gave her away. He didn't hesitate one moment. He jumped upon her, dragged her out of her hiding place, grabbed the front of her robes and shook her viciously.

'You bloody filthy bitch!' he barked. 'What have you done with my sister? Where is she?!'

Orana started to whimper, still clinging onto Titia's garment. 'Please Messere, don't hurt her!' she squeaked desperately. 'She didn't do anything wrong!'

'Carver, calm yourself!' Wynne called out to the furious Grey Warden. 'I don't think that is Hadriana.' Berran pulled with strong hands a very unwilling Carver away from the mage. Titia staggered back; she hit her shoulder against the rock but managed to stay upright.

'I think the one you seek lies here,' Wynne added.

'The one I seek is Marian,' Carver growled. Reluctantly he joined the others who were gathered around the dead body of a woman with long black hair, dressed in blue robes. A dagger was embedded in her chest.

'That's Hawke's dagger,' Isabela stated, 'I know she purchased that one in Kirkwall before we sailed to Denerim. Did  _she_  finish that bitch off? And if so, where has she gone? This makes no sense.'

'She didn't kill Hadriana,' Titia declared from her relatively safe spot, 'Fenris did. Hawke did the rest. I mean, she ended the lives from more than two dozen men. She used magic with a force I never saw before. It was quite unsettling.’ She tried to sound as neutral as possible, but did a bad job.

Only now they all stared at the bodies that lay scattered around; only now they became aware not all of the corpses had suffered stab, slash or shot wounds. Only now, now they had the time to wonder, it got through to them that the greater number had died of burns, severe frostbite and broken necks or spines.

'No way Marian could have done this,' Carver said after an awkward silence. His eyes had grown wide, he could not accept his sister was responsible for this.

'You  _do_  know you're sister is a mage, I hope,' Varric sneered derisively.

'Spare me your wit, dwarf,' Carver bit back, 'I know she can flail the incidentally fireball or shard of ice. But just one serious spell leaves her exhausted and unable to do anything else for hours. Yes, yes I know why and how and what Father did, more than I care for, to be honest. So tell me how she was able to accomplish ...' he waved around at the carnage, 'this?!'

'She didn't use blood magic, did she?' Berran asked tentatively.

'Always the suspicious one,' Isabela scoffed tetchily. 'Is it so hard to put a little trust in someone once and again?'

The Seeker scowled at her but said nothing, mostly because Wynne had taken his elbow in a light but not to misunderstand grip.

'No she didn't,' Titia answered, 'and believe me, I know blood magic when I see it. I did sense the presence of demons, though, but it felt like they were, how shall I put it, thoroughly worn out. I have no doubt all of them were expectantly crawling at the opening from the Fade to this world Hadriana had created, but they were already spent and withered before she could make use of them. One way or another Hawke must have drained them.' A little sardonic smile played around her lips. 'Hadriana surely has been, let’s say, unpleasantly surprised, especially after she got hurled through the air by just a flick of Hawke's hand. The woman looked like a very dangerous spirit, or rather like an infuriated goddess, seeking revenge. She actually seemed to be alight.' She involuntarily shivered at the remembrance. Orana tried once again to hide into her robes. She shared the same image and, besides that, was scared of the newcomers, especially of the two impressing and angry looking black haired human males.

'This really does  _not_  sound like Marian,' Carver sputtered confused. The thought of his sister being capable of radiating vast power like that was more than unnerving. Having been his dominating sibling for all his life was one thing, being a reincarnation of a fuming goddess –  _goddess_  no less – was highly disturbing, if not utterly frightening.

Zevran raised his hand. 'Two questions, if I may, my lovely signorina,’ he said with a slight bow in Wynne's direction. She gave him a small nod and he turned to Titia. 'One, I would like an introduction; it's much more reassuring to know whom you're dealing with, don't you agree, yes? And second, if Hadriana is dead, and with her more than half of her army, where are Marian Hawke and Fenris?'

-

Gradually Hawke came drifting back into the land of the living. At first her head felt like it was filled with cotton wool which wasn't even a bad sensation, she had to admit. It felt calming, almost peaceful. Slowly the fuzziness cleared and left her with the strange impression her skull itched on the inside but that too faded. Her whole body felt like it had been tended by caring hands; there was no pain from bruises or whiplashes. There was no weariness or the urge to throw up. There were definitely no shackles. She was lying on something soft, positively not the hard rocky floor of some cave, and a diffuse light was shining through her eyelids. At the back of her head memories lingered. Whiplashes, ah yes the confrontation with that witch Hadriana and her Tevinter scum. Cool water.  _Damn, Darkspawn._

She opened her eyes.

The first thing she met were the earnest looking silvery green eyes of Fenris. She heaved a sigh of relief; whatever might have happened, he was still alive and with her.

'You here?' she said with a wan smile. For the time being she didn't want to give in to despair or fear. Not only sarcasm helped to cope with uncertainty and a seemingly hopeless situation, humour did also.

He reciprocated although far from wholeheartedly. Nevertheless he was willing to play her game. 'Yes. Fancy that.'

'I wasn't aware we had a romantic rendezvous. I trust you brought the champagne?'

This time his smile was genuine. 'I'm afraid I did not. I hope a pitcher of fresh water will bring you in the right mood.'

She had to laugh at that but immediately became serious again. 'Where are we?'

His smile faltered. 'I don't know. I truly don't know; I just woke up myself not long ago. I haven't had much time to mull over the situation. How are you feeling?'

'Much better, like I've had a revitalizing sleep. And how about you?'

He shrugged. 'The same, I suppose.' He hesitated. 'It's like – like someone has taken care of me, of us.' He swallowed. 'There is water, there is food,' he pointed out the small side table littered with bread, cheese and fruits. 'They, whoever  _they_  may be, have washed us and clad us in clean clothes.'

Only now she realized her filthy blood drenched garments were removed and replaced with a clean linen dark green coloured shirt and trousers. And that the soft – something – beneath her was, in fact, a pile of expensive furs, serving as some kind of luxury mattress.

'They really have made a lot of effort to make us feel comfortable,' Fenris continued, 'but I don't know why.'

She sat up and looked around.

They were held in a cage. Only the back of their prison was made of stone. Masonry. The rest consisted out of iron bars. But this was no ordinary dungeon. For starters, the light seemed to come from everywhere around; soft white light pouring out from an undetected source. The term "magical light" sprang to mind. But the architecture didn't fit with whatever Darkspawn could come up with. It looked basic, yes, but at the same time beautifully sculptured. Like someone had tried to change a dungeon into a palace. Because this undoubtedly was a dungeon. There were no windows, not even in the ceiling, and the air smelled like second-hand.

'We may be imprisoned but it doesn't look very Darkspawn-ish at all, does it? This whole scene doesn't. The place, the food, the way they apparently treated us. It boggles the mind,' Marian whispered. She was almost afraid that if she would speak up, this strange illusion would crumple into oblivion and would reveal some nasty, filthy and dark jail, filled with rats and mouldy, smelly straw.

'No. And yes,' Fenris replied. 'And as a matter of fact, we aren't imprisoned at that.' He sounded soft and strained as if he caught her brittle mood. Which he undoubtedly did.

She looked taken aback. 'What do you mean?'

Fenris indicated the door. 'It isn't locked.'

Now she was completely gobsmacked. 'Let me get this straight. Somebody has made the effort to bring us in here, in some kind of cage, has taken care of our injuries, changed our bloodied clothes, left us food and fresh water and didn't even bother to lock the place. What kind of idiotic trap is this?'

He flashed her a thin smile. 'Trap. Nice you mention that. It was the first expression that came up in my mind.'

-

'Why are we still standing around? We have to go after Marian and Fenris before something bad befalls them,' Carver said after Titia was done explaining. He impatiently gestured at the exit of the cave. Wynne didn't answer but instead looked pensively at the Tevinter mage.

'I know you don't trust me,' Titia said flatly, 'and I can't blame you, you have no reason to.'

'I can't fathom why you abandoned her,' Wynne said.

'Because I hated her,' Titia declared outspoken, 'and I didn't abandon her as such, I just didn't interfere. And yes, I feel sorry for all those dead men but they were soldiers. It may sound callously but soldiers know they can die at any moment. That's what they signed up for. Fighting is their profession and they knew the consequences when they joined the army.'

'Is she your slave?' Sigrun suddenly piped up, pointing at the cowering Orana. She couldn't hide her disgust. What the Tevinter woman had said about the risks of being a soldier was alright with her but she absolutely didn't put up with slavery.

'No,' Titia said tired, 'she is – she was Hadriana's.'

'The poor girl is all skin and bone,' Sigrun said angrily, 'was it too much trouble to feed her properly?'

'Are we going to discuss the foul morality of the Tevinter Imperium or are we finally going to do something?' Carver shouted heatedly.

'What are you planning to do with us?' Titia informed meekly.

'You're coming with us for the time being,' Wynne decided.

'As your prisoners?'

'I suppose so,' Wynne nodded, 'more or less. Now let's go looking for Serah Hawke and Fenris before Carver explodes.'

But they didn't get far before a white light descended upon them and led them into sweet unconsciousness.

-

'You stay behind me,' Fenris said firmly.

'Is that an order?'

'Yes.'

'I'm fairly good in hitting and kicking people,' Hawke objected.

'Marian!'

'Alright, alright,' she pouted, 'have it your way but don't come running back if some big bad Darkspawn rips you apart.'

Fenris rolled his eyes. 'Leave the ripping apart division to me, will you.' He carefully opened the door, half expecting to trigger an alarm or some explosives but nothing happened. No loud boom sounded, there came no furious armed to the teeth guard running around the corner. There was no outburst of Darkspawn activity happening. 'It seems to be safe,’ he stated, relieved.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. 'Had you expected otherwise?’

'Frankly, I did. With reasons. And we’re not out of here yet.’ Cautiously he continued his scouting expedition. Marian ambled behind him, still looking a bit defiant. They crept through well lit and well maintained corridors until they stumbled upon a closed large wooden door.

'Stand back,' Fenris said without looking over his shoulder, concentrating on the door as if it was his worst enemy or held the mysteries of the universe.

'Ay ay Captain,' she retorted tartly.

Fenris let out a sigh. 'Please, Marian, you're acting utterly childish.' He reached for the handle but at the same time the door opened and he almost collided with Carver. All three of them looked seriously taken aback. Hawke was the first to regain her wits and to react.

'What the hell are you doing here?' she exclaimed, flabbergasted.

'I could ask you the same.' Carver sounded irritably as if he blamed her for walking around unscathed and finding him, instead of him saving her. They walked passed him into the room.

'Well, look at that, you're all here!' Hawke said astonished.

'It seems the rescue operation has turned the other way around,' Varric laughed out loud. 'Too bad for you, Junior!'

'I don't think it's funny,' Carver groused, 'and stop calling me that.'

'Au contraire, I think it's hilarious. Hello Hawke, Fenris, good to see you're both in excellent health. I suggest we leave this sinister place as fast as possible. We can exchange our experiences along the way.'

'I wouldn't cheer too soon,' Hawke warned, 'this is the only door we found thus far, so unless there's another exit, we're stuck here.'

-

Before the dwarf could reply, a hitherto hidden door on the other side of the room opened and a strange – figure entered. He was tall and slim and wore long robes adorned with metal strips. His face looked almost human, though it was hard to see because it was partly covered with a golden like mask.

Behind Hawke's back Sigrun uttered a dwarven curse that sounded as if rocks were crushed and stones ground.

'Ouch,' Varric responded, 'that's no language for a lady.'

'Who says I'm a lady,' Sigrun hissed animatedly.

'Who says I like a lady,' Varric smirked.

'Who, what,' Hawke stammered. She tried to collect her thoughts and believed it better to be polite. As polite as possible, as a matter of fact. After all, the strange apparition held all their lives in its hands. 'Who are you?' she said breathlessly.

To her dismay the creature levitated and said in a soft low voice, 'You may call me the Architect.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope at least some of you have played the Awakening, otherwise this whole Architect business makes no sence at all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

-

The Architect,’ Hawke echoed numbly, while staring bewildered at the weird apparition, ‘what in the Maker’s name is an Architect?’ She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind. ‘I mean, of course I know what an architect is but why, by Andraste’s flaming knickers, would the Darkspawn need one? Or even bother with one?’ _Besides creating a quite beautiful dungeon. But then again, that raises the same question: why? Or is it some kind of strange title?_

The ghostlike appearance floated down and looked at her with eyes that might have been sad, but that was hard to tell. Behind that dull gleaming mask it was difficult enough to catch any feeling at all, let alone to deduce a single emotion from the rest of the face that seemed to have stuck into only one expression; the expression of no expression at all.

‘Oh, he doesn’t design buildings, if that’s what you think,’ Sigrun spoke disdainfully before the figure could utter a word. ‘He is a Darkspawn himself, be it a very odd one. I met him with the Warden Commander not a few months ago. She made a pact with him.’ Something started to tug at Hawke’s memory, something unpleasant. The dwarf clenched her jaws. ‘It ended with killing the so called Mother,’ she added, sounding strained and rather spitefully. ‘He seemed to help us but I never trusted him. Not after what he apparently has caused.’

Hawke was highly surprised to hear the dwarven Grey Warden, who up till now mostly had radiated friendliness, utter these words in such a menacing tone. She turned to her but her face hardly revealed any feelings. She was hard to read through her tattoos, almost as hard as that Architect. ‘Let him tell the story,’ Sigrun muttered, ‘I don’t feel like it. After all, it was his doing.’

Hawke turned back, fascinated but at the same time on her guard. _Caused what?_ And _, remind me to wear a mask or to paint my face when I’m about to have an interview with some challenging person. What an advantage you have when no one can figure out your thoughts or feelings!_ And, _the mother? What the hell does she mean by that?_

The Architect’s eyes lingered upon the tattooed dwarf. ‘I remember you,’ he said, almost tenderly. ‘You were there with the female warrior, the Warden Commander, when we confronted ... _her_. The Mother. Yes.´ His voice faded. Sigrun belligerently puffed out some air but stayed stubbornly silent.

Hawke suddenly got a nasty suspicion about this particular Darkspawn, what he apparently represented, according to Sigrun. He did look very strange but nothing like any Darkspawn she had yet stumbled upon. _Perhaps he is some kind of emissary, one with actual brains._ The last encounter with Brok Igulson, up till now innocently lingering in a corner of her mind, suddenly hit her remembrance with a not to ignore harsh blow. For a moment she forgot to breathe. _Damn!_ _My father has made a pact with a Darkspawn!_ And at the same time she realised she never told the others about it. She cursed inwardly. There would be hell to pay within now and a few moments. She cast a sidelong glance upon Wynne and Berran and her brother who were still blissfully ignorant about what was to come. Their eyes seemed to be glued to the Architect’s face. She reached a decision. Alright, there never would turn up a proper opportunity to come out in the open with the failed-to-reveal information; she could as well confront them with it right now and take the nasty consequences.

‘Let me guess, you had something to do with my father,’ she croaked. She coughed to clear her throat and to regain a normal sounding voice. It was an illusion to think her companions wouldn’t immediately jump into the wrong conclusions by hearing her words that were no less than some kind of revelation. But, against better judgement, she could always keep good hopes. ‘You must be the Darkspawn that smith, Brok Igulson, in Denerim mentioned, I mean the one my father came across when he roamed along the Deep Roads. You don’t look like any Darkspawn I met before, however. I would be very pleased if you’d enlighten me. So, tell me, what has occurred between you two?’ ... _aaand let the screaming commence..._

A foreboding silence fell but not for long. In fact, the silence didn’t last for more than a handful of seconds before the Seeker burst out even before the Architect could react.

‘What?!’ Berran thundered ominously after those few stretched moments, harshly shredding the heavy stillness. ‘You knew about this and chose to keep it to yourself?!’

Marian closed her eyes; despite the fact she had tried to arm herself against the reactions, the immense tiredness returned and she wished she could lie down, if only for some minutes. Just to muster her wits and some scraps of energy. Any time now a headache would start to throb at the back of her skull, she just knew it. Out of something that had grown into a habit, Fenris put an arm around her waist, of course he did. It seemed to have become some kind of second nature. It almost brought her to tears.

‘Don’t you dare to accuse her,’ he said with a dark threatening voice. ‘She was planning to tell you but a lot of things had happened already and more incidents were about to occur; it simply got snowed under.’

And, yes, again he moved her. He had been through so much himself but as always instantly stood up for her. She wanted to cry but instead pulled herself together. She was grateful for his support but this was not his fight, this was hers. He shouldn’t feel burdened by it.

‘I don’t care if Andraste herself did make an appearance!’ the Seeker in the meantime bellowed. ‘It was her duty to inform us!’

Something snapped inside Hawke; she heaved her head and the Seeker almost stumbled back under her seething look. ‘My _duty_?!’

Fenris recognized that low gravelly and menacing voice and fastened his grasp on her body. Maker forbade she would do something rash and stupid. Like making an effort to kill Berran. Or even making a scene. This was not the time; it could turn out to be tremendously dangerous with the presence of that weird apparition. And thus he kept at the same time an eye on the so called Architect but to his relief that one was apparently only observing at the moment. On the other hand, he wasn’t surprised Marian didn’t pay any attention to his reaction whatsoever. Well, at least she didn’t try to fight him off. It was hard to tell what went through her mind when she was in this kind of mood. He knew she had been trying very hard to keep herself together but she hadn’t been given much space to recuperate. At this very moment she just raved on and he let her for the time being. He could always intervene when need called.

‘You arrogant son of a bitch!’ Hawke yelled. ‘I don’t owe you anything! _You_ were the one who came and turned my whole life upside down! _You_ threatened my friends, abducted my brother, dragged me to Ferelden, set half of Val Royeaux on my tail and now you have the guts to tell me I have to report to you as if I were one of your minions?! You have some bloody nerve! You can take your _duty_ and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine! I’m so fucking fed up with you, you puffed up toad!’

‘Ouch,’ Isabela smirked. Fenris shared her emotion. He was hardly able to keep himself from bursting out laughing. At this moment he entirely understood Marian’s fury. He would have gladly flung some insults at Berran as well, but appreciated Marian was doing splendidly of her own accord.

‘Alright,’ Wynne intervened, as usual, ‘let’s please all calm down. We have more important things at hand at the moment.’ And just as usual Berran backed down. Fenris feared for the moment the Seeker would refuse to do so. He feared the damaged would be irreparable.

Hawke took a deep quivering breath and at the same time took the opportunity to cast a quick glance around. They seemed to be gathered in something like a study; there stood two writing desks against the wall, covered with books and scrolls. Other tables were littered with beakers and strange glassware, a couple of bookcases filled the space on both sides of the entrance. There were a few large chests, some life-sized statues that looked far too elegant to represent whatever type of Darkspawn whatsoever, and one stuffed animal that looked more like a three-headed monster of some sorts. A very neat and rather comfy room for a Darkspawn. It seemed unreal.

Only now she got aware of Fenris’s tightened grip and she realised he was more concerned with her reaction about the whole situation than about the situation itself. That was not fair; she had to remedy that right now. She squeezed his hand to reassure him and gave him a short but warm smile. She turned back to the Architect. ‘You surely made a cosy place for yourself,’ she said, considerably more relaxed after her outburst. ‘But that aside, could you explain by now what this is all about?’

The apparition, Darkspawn, Architect, whatever the strange figure might be, still didn’t show any emotion at all. In a way he resembled almost a tranquil; it was fairly disturbing. ‘I know you are Malcolm Hawke’s daughter,’ he said and it brought shivers down her spine, not the good ones, mind you. ‘I have been following you since you came to this part of Ferelden. You are his spitting image, not only in looks but even more in mind. You must know we made a pact, he and I, a long time ago.’

Hawke knew this already, of course, but didn’t like the sound of his dithering voice. ‘A pact? What kind of pact?’ Her hackles rose. She was prepared for the worst but the worst turned out not to be the worst she had feared. It was even worse.

The Architect faintly waved his hand. ‘We met in the Deep Roads, not far from here. He was looking for a mine, I was looking for a – solution. We managed to have an understanding.’

He went silent. This time it was Carver who raised his voice. Wearily Hawke leaned against Fenris’s lithe, strong frame. Needless to say she didn’t know beforehand what the Architect was about to reveal, but she was pretty certain it wouldn’t be pleasant. She waited numbness for the umpteenth piece of bad news. _Yes, let Carver ask the questions this time_ , she thought. She was dead tired of it all. 

‘Do go on,’ her brother said, sounding acerbically, ‘this is fascinating.’

The Architect let his eyes linger on the young man. ‘Ah, the son. I suppose this is fitting.’ He paused for a brief moment and then continued. ‘I differed already from the other Darkspawn when I came into existence. Why I don’t know. But I looked at my kin and realised they were mindless and very wrong. The Blight is by no means a solution to settle the dispute between my kind and humans; it only brings grief to both. So I searched for a way to free my brethren from the everlasting urge to seek out the old gods to lead them into fruitless battle. But it was impossible to get through to them. And then I met Malcolm Hawke. He too was seeking for a method to end a danger to the world: the danger of demons emerging with mages, to prevent them from becoming blood mages. So we decided to work together. I would look for the mine with the precious metal he needed for his runes, and in return he taught me a technique how to give the Darkspawn reason. It was, surprisingly, broadly the same technique the Grey Wardens use to sense us. Such a simple and elegant answer to the problem. But I suppose it took a mind like Malcolm Hawke’s to come up with it.’ He let his words waver in the air.

Sigrun snorted derisively but said nothing.

The Architect explained to his captivated audience, ‘The Wardens drink Darkspawn blood to become aware of us –‘

Before he could adequately finish the sentence, he got interrupted by Varric. ‘They do _what_?’ the dwarf cried out with disgust. ‘Drink blood? Can’t they just stick to a decent pint of ale? Celebrate their brotherhood in a less gross way?’

‘Ah yes, best kept secret in Thedas – till now,’ Sigrun grumbled sullenly. ‘Let’s join the Grey by imbibing the Darkspawn taint out of the large traditional cup and rejoice.’ She tilted her head and added conscientiously, ‘Although, I have to admit it’s less depressing than the ritual of joining the Army of the Dead.’

Carver covered himself in silence, be it a grim kind of silence.

‘If it’s such a well kept secret, how did Malcolm Hawke know about it?’ Isabela piped up.

Hawke shrugged. ‘He befriended Duncan for quite a while, remember; he might have told my father about the initiation ritual. I don’t think it’s very important right now how he acquired that knowledge.’ She waved a hand at the Architect. ‘Please, do carry on.’

‘Malcolm Hawke figured out a method to reverse the process,’ the Architect said. ‘He deduced that if the Darkspawn drink the blood of a Grey Warden, they become aware of themselves, gain a self-conscience if you will. They become able to truly think and converse. And it worked. I started with gathering a group, told them the old means were wrong, that there was a better way to give sense to their lives instead of endlessly searching for an Archdemon and start a war.’ He bowed his head. ‘I engaged many difficulties.’

Carver looked at him with an appalled expression. ‘Drink the blood of Grey Wardens..?’ he uttered, shocked. ‘You can’t be serious.’

Sigrun didn’t comment; after all, she had gone through this same shock months before.

‘That seems ... exceedingly unethical,’ Wynne said hesitantly.

‘Forget unethical,’ Berran protested indignantly, ‘it’s outright repulsive!’

The Architect raised his arms and his feet left the floor. Hawke thought, in a distant way and very hard trying not to become hysterical, that this was perhaps his way to show some emotion. Where another would frown, he started to float. ‘Why would that be more unethical than the Wardens using the blood of my brethren?’

Berran started to fume. ‘Because the Darkspawn –‘

‘Perhaps we should better save this discussion for another time, yes?’ Zevran cut him short. ‘Like for when we’re out of this tight situation?’

Berran grumbled something under his breath and shot the Antivan elf a venomous look but he gave in for the second time.

Hawke, in the meantime, was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. No one had yet made a remark about her father’s role in this unsavoury affair, not even her brother, but she suspected that negligence would soon be remedied _._ She knew for certain it would just take a short time to let the importance of his deeds kick into their minds with the force of a golem’s foot. _A mage that can shape, change or destroy the world_ , she mused again. _He was so afraid I would be a danger that he turned into a far bigger danger himself with his actions._ She pushed the heels of her hands in her eyes and for a moment she afforded herself the luxury of leaning against Fenris’s frame some more. She hardly got aware of his supporting presence before another memory of the ones roaming around her head popped up. _How far had he been willing to go to obtain the priceless amantium? What had he done? What had he offered, or sacrificed?_ She clenched her fists in powerless anger. _Dangerously much, apparently. Has he even thought about the consequences? What will_ be _those consequences, anyway?_ Here and now she would find out the truth. And for some reason she was the only one who was caring about the outcome.

Very soon after this, she’d discover that “will be” wasn’t the right term at all; “had happened already” was far more accurate. With devastating results.

-

Gascard DuPuis was aimlessly ambling through Val Royeaux, hardly paying attention to the grand estates shining with marble, the beautiful sculptured fountains and the elegant boulevards and squares. He was contemplating about his future which didn’t look very bright at the moment. No one had told him anything but he was no ignorant fool; he knew very well Albert Berran had fallen out of grace and it was highly unlikely the man would be restored to favour ever again, even with his history of having been the lover of the Divine.

He had been set free, but without his patron to protect him, his situation looked brittle. In fact, he was hardly more than an outlaw. He had been ordered by the Head of the Seekers, Baron Villefranche, to return to Tevinter and to continue his work over there, but he didn’t feel like it. Minrathous might be the safest place in the whole of Thedas for a mage, at the same time it was the most depressing one with its awful dusty, crumbling and decaying streets and buildings. And perhaps even more important, the Archon and Danarius would expect he’d deliver vital information from Val Royeaux and it wouldn’t take long before they’d find out he had been cut out. He snorted cynically. Continue his work! There was no way he’d have the same liberty to wander around the Seeker’s Headquarters and the Royal and Holy Palaces, as he had been able to do before, and undoubtedly his contacts would avoid him like the plague. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be kicked out of Minrathous, or get arrested again here in the capital of Orlais. Villefranche only had ordered him back to Tevinter to get rid of him without actually have to kill him.

All things put together, there was just one place he could go: his mansion in Kirkwall. It wasn’t exactly the perfect city for a mage to stay in, but hardly anyone there knew he was, in fact, a mage. The only person who had been well aware of the fact, had been the head of the Red Iron and Berran had taken care of that threat. In a very definite way. And to be even more accommodating, the Marquis had taken the ones that had raided his mansion with him on his trip to Ferelden, including the enigmatic daughter of Malcolm Hawke and her fearsome lover. It would be a trip of which they certainly wouldn’t return. Danarius would see to that. Or otherwise the Archon would take drastic measures, of that he was sure. Either way, none of them would ever pester him again. So, Gascard DuPuis moved to Kirkwall. He hired a staff and spread the rumour he had been forced to flee Val Royeaux because of his involvement in a scandalous love affair at the Royal Court. Everybody would believe such a tale. They would just say, ‘How typical Orlesian,’ and snigger in their sleeves. And found it romantic to boot. He had settled in and was accepted by the Kirkwall nobility in no time. Half of them were from Orlesian origin and coping with more or less the same problem anyway, and the Kirkwall nobles looked up to him for being Orlesian, no matter his history.

One night, when he returned home after a fancy and utterly boring dinner party, a man was waiting for him. His butler had let him in and had ushered him into the library, offering him a seat next to the roaring fire. The visitor stood and bowed lightly when DuPuis walked into the room. ‘Forgive me my rude intrusion,’ he said, ‘but I think I have an interesting proposition for you.’

DuPuis cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’m listening,’ he said while he sat down and gestured for the man to do the same. He ordered for wine.

‘You see,’ the stranger began after the refreshments were brought and the servant had withdrawn again, ‘I was sent to this city by the First Enchanter of the Circle in Starkhaven to spy upon the Knight Commander Meredith. He believes her to be extremely dangerous and since he considers the First Enchanter here a timorous weakling, he wants me to collect evidence against the Knight Commander to bring to the Divine.’

‘In what way is Meredith so “extremely dangerous”?’ DuPuis informed somewhat mocking. He had met the woman on several occasions. In fact, she had been present this very night at the dinner party. He found it very amusing she had no clue at all that he was a mage when they exchanged pleasantries. That is to say, he excelled in uttering charming small talk – an art every noble was born with – while _she_ mainly excelled in curtly responses. She wasn’t of noble birth herself but had risen to great power and had by now so much influence that everyone of significance sent her an invitation to attend their social gatherings. She was mostly annoying and by times rude, if not bad-mannered, but dangerous..?

‘He is convinced she is arranging to wipe out all the mages in Thedas, starting with this city,’ the stranger stated. ‘We intercepted an anonymous letter from Kirkwall with a detailed plan to make all mages tranquil.’

DuPuis leaned back in his chair. He had to admit he was captivated by now. Not just because of the story, but even more because it was told to him. ‘And why would you come to me with this?’

The man took a sip from his wine. ‘Because you’re a mage and a spy.’

DuPuis’s face stayed perfectly blank, although he was beyond captivated by now. More like alarmed. ‘I suppose it’s useless to ask were and how you obtained that information.’ The man just smiled. ‘Are you here to blackmail me?’

The man changed his position in the comfortable chair and crossed his legs. ‘No. I’m here to ask for your help. You move in high circles. You can approach the Knight Commander, you have access to information I have not. And I think you’ll find your reward most interesting.’

‘Is that so?’ Dupuis poured himself and the stranger another glass of wine.

‘Besides the usual fee of a considerable amount of gold, I can offer you something far more exciting.’ He paused a few moments to let the effect kick in more strongly. ‘I know you are interested in necromancy and I also know how hard it is to find information about the subject.’ He paused again for some heartbeats but DuPuis didn’t reply. ‘I can teach you everything you want to learn.’

DuPuis’s hand hovered over the crystal decanter. Without batting an eyelid he said, ‘Before we take this conversation to a higher level, I would like to know your name. Names are important, as you are no doubt aware.’

The stranger smiled again. DuPuis thought he caught a glimpse of the look in the man’s eyes. It seemed like pure, unrefined insanity. But that could as well be a trick of the light, cast by the restless flickering fire, so he dismissed it. And besides that, one couldn’t be a necromancer without a little touch of madness.

The man picked up his glass. ‘You can call me Quentin.’

-

Finally the general attention turned to Malcolm Hawke’s share in the whole troublesome situation.

‘It seems papa Hawke has been busy,’ Isabela said, cutting the tension with this seemingly airily remark. ‘Is this what you wanted to find out, sweetness?’

‘I didn’t want to find out anything to start with,’ Hawke muttered miserably. ‘I was perfectly happy with my complete ignorance in this matter. And stop looking at me as if this mess is all but my fault,’ she added, addressing her brother.

‘He did this because of you,’ Carver snarled.

‘We’ll have plenty of time to bicker over this later, Junior,’ said Varric, aiming to prevent a heated argument. ‘Right now I’m more interested if that amantium mine has been discovered. That’s the reason why we’re here.’

To Marian’s relief the Architect had floated down again.

‘I found the mine.’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘It’s buried deep into the earth and as good as inaccessible for humans, but that is not the most important problem.’ Another sigh followed, even heavier. ‘It turned out be the birthplace of the Archdemons. They thrive on the metal. In fact, it gives them life and power. Malcolm Hawke needed the amantium to stop the mana flowing in a mage’s veins. For one reason or another it works the other way around for the old gods.’ He looked at the floor and it almost seemed he showed something like shame or regret. ‘I woke the old god Urthemiel but he refused to converse with me. He refused to see any reason at all. Instead he turned into the fifth Archdemon and a new Blight was born.’

Gobsmacked they all stared at him, trying to let the full meaning of his words sink in without having their brains smashed to pulp by the sheer weight of this shattering information. Finally Carver managed, ‘So, in a way, it was my father who started the fifth Blight.’ His face was flushed, his eyes shone dangerously.

‘Don’t think about it in that manner,’ the Architect replied hastily, ‘I take all the responsibility for that ... unfortunate event.’

But Carver didn’t listen, an art in which he excelled anyhow. ‘In a way he convicted me to be a Grey Warden.’ His voice rose. ‘As a matter of fact, you can say he killed his own daughter!’

‘Carver, don’t,’ Hawke whispered, nearly inaudible. She was far beyond tiredness at this point. Even exhaustion didn’t start to describe how she felt.

Her brother turned sharply to her. ‘Why don’t you say anything? How can you stay so calm?!’ He was screaming by now.

‘Nothing surprises me anymore,’ Hawke groaned. It sounded light-hearted but the truth was she felt utterly and completely crushed under this last blow. Her head was reeling and she was frantically fighting against panic and outright despair. Her father was the instigator of the last Blight. He –

‘Don’t make light of this,’ Carver hissed menacingly.

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Her voice sounded broken. If this got known, her father would be condemned as a criminal, a mass-murderer, even long after his death. And how would that influence the life of his wife, of his children? _Oh dad, what have you done..._ ‘He wanted to protect the world against the dangers of magic and gave it a Blight,’ she murmured, feeling nauseous. She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. And so she missed the sudden streak of rage on her brother’s face. He acted so fast even Fenris was surprised.

‘Of course you knew about this and you kept everything away from me, don’t lie to me!’

He lashed out and hit her square in the face with his armoured fist. Fenris staggered back with Marian in his arms and barely managed to stay up right. Next moment Carver lay flat on his face, floored by Zevran who kicked away the legs under his body. The Antivan elf stooped over him. ‘Look here, my hot-headed friend,’ he said calmly with his with honey dripping voice, ‘as an assassin and former Crow I have nothing against a little violence, but you have to recognize when and where to pick your moments. This was uncalled for.’

Hindered by his heavy armour Carver laboriously scrambled back on his feet and met mostly hostile looks.

‘Tsk Junior, I can’t say this was your brightest action up till now,’ Varric commented dryly, ‘and the Maker knows they weren’t that bright to start with.’ His fingers itched for his beloved crossbow but they had woken up in this room without their weapons.

Fenris helped Marian to stand stable. He glared daggers at Carver. ‘One more time,’ he growled ominously, ‘just one more time you treat your sister like this and I will make certain you will never walk again.’

Hawke brought her hand to her cheek where Carver had struck her. The skin was broken and blood trickled down her face. She was positive she’d have a black eye. But strangely the fierce hit had helped to clear her mind and stopped the upcoming panic-attack. There would be opportunity enough to worry and think about the Architect’s ghastly revelations. The rest of her life, in fact. Now was not the time.

‘Damn it brother, was this really necessary?’ Although he had unintentionally helped her to regain her common sense, that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry with him. And anger was always better than despair.

Carver looked at her with fiery defiant eyes, just like he always had done when he thought he was left out or treated unfair, which had been pretty much most of the time. ‘Don’t fool me! You must have known about this,’ he wailed, ‘and of course you never told me!’

Hawke put her hands on her hips, her eyes ablaze. ‘If you had bothered to participate in the meeting on the Wounded Coast, as I asked you to do, instead of sleeping off your hangover as usual, you would have found out I indeed did not know anything of this! Maker’s balls! I thought you finally had grown up among the Wardens but you’re still that whining spoiled little shit you always were! And don’t you even _start_ about the burden of wandering in my shadow; you’re but all too eager to hide in it because you are too big a coward to step into the light and make decisions of your own!’ She took a deep breath and felt enormously relieved after this livid eruption. The rest of them tried to stifle smirks and sniggers, with various success.

Carver seemed to crumble under her rage. He shuffled his feet and mumbled something that had to pass for an apology. Hawke waved it off. ‘Alright, enough of this.’ She turned to the Architect who had followed the scene with distant interest, as if he was studying human behaviour. ‘And now? What happens now?’

He stared at her from behind his mask before he answered. ‘I could provide you with the location of the amantium mine, if you still want that information. I have never got the opportunity to tell Malcolm Hawke; it seems appropriate to tell his daughter.’

‘By all means!’ Varric exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air. ‘Let’s go and tap an evil angry Archdemon on the nose! After all, they’re nothing more than some tainted high dragon. I can’t wait to see how that adventure turns out!’

But the Architect shook his head. ‘There won’t be an old god yet, not this soon after a Blight. It probably will take ages for another one to find the place and develop into an Archdemon. And after that they won’t stay in the place, they will start to roam the Deep Roads. But like I said before, the mine is hardly accessible for humans.’

Isabela looked cheeky. ‘You’re really certain no nasty old god will be waiting for us when we should succeed in reaching that mine? How can you be so sure? Do they queue, line up? Wait patiently for a couple of ages to pass, before they decide the right moment is upon them to pester the world once more?’

The Architect sighed. ‘I can give no guarantees,’ he admitted.

‘I thought so,’ the pirate queen said triumphantly.

‘But it is very unlikely,’ the Architect continued. ‘As far as I recall, it never happened before.’ He might have looked resentful, but again it was impossible to tell.

‘I think he is right,’ said Hawke determinedly. ‘I think there will be no old god yet down there, wherever down there is.’

‘Is that really what you want, Serah Hawke?’ Wynne sounded somewhat strained. Hawke wondered what was going through her mind. She had been part of the group that had fought the Blight, more or less caused by her father, the man she had trusted and even had been infatuated with. _Later, this also can wait._

‘I don’t think it will do any harm to know where that blasted mine is. We can spend weeks yelling at each other while trying to decide what to do with that knowledge,’ Hawke said sarcastically. ‘That is, if we manage to get out of here in the first place.’

All heads turned to look at the Architect. ‘You are free to go,’ he simply said.

Hawke tilted her head. ‘Really? Just like that? Then why did you take us prisoner in the first place?’

‘You are not my prisoners,’ the Architect stated with emphasis.

‘You could have fooled me,’ Varric muttered.

‘I brought you here to explain about Malcolm Hawke’s deeds. I thought that’s what drove you to this part of Thedas.’

‘You could have tried a proper invitation,’ Hawke remarked. ‘But, mind you, you’re not the first one who has to learn that particular lesson.’

Berran grumbled something unintelligible behind her back.

‘Would you have heeded it?’ The Architect almost sounded amused.

Hawke had to smile. ‘No. Probably not,’ she admitted.

‘I’m not leaving this place without Bianca,’ Varric said firmly, crossing his arms and stubbornly sticking out his chin.

The Architect nodded. ‘You will find your gear in the cave where you battled the Tevinters. I promise my kin won’t harm or even follow you. I, at least, owe that much to Malcolm Hawke.’

-

The walk back to the cave took more than an hour but, fortunately, they had been provided with torches to light the path. Very little was said; everyone was wrapped in a shroud of silence, reflecting on all that had happened and had been revealed. Hawke felt Fenris’s hand in hers and she hoped fervently they would find some peace and quiet to talk about all of it. Little did she know their struggles weren’t over. Not by far.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this story hasn't ended yet. More is to come, even after the explanation of Malcolm Hawke's role in the drama. So, please stay with me!
> 
> And, of course and as always, many sincerely meant thanks for your kudos, your comments and for reading!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the gap but, to my defence, I had a serious case of the snivels. I'll try to make it up to you with two chapters in one week-end.
> 
> Carver acting like a real prig, but remorse kicks in. Fenris racing to the rescue with not the effect he was aiming for... well, read and find out...
> 
> In short: enjoy!

Chapter 34

-

Fenris had walked as some kind of zombie all the way through the narrow passages of the cave-system, holding fervently onto Marian’s hand as if she was his line to reality, which at that moment was pretty much the case. He had been so occupied with thinking about everything that had transpired that his brain had been working overtime; in fact, it stood at the brink of spinning out of control. Marian’s hand was the only thing that kept him more or less in check.

There were so many grave and confusing topics to contemplate: the confrontation with Hadriana and everything that had brought up, not in the least his own disturbing feelings of hatred, Marian’s big display, that Architect, Malcolm Hawke and what he had put into motion, Carver’s ferocious reaction he had angrily rejected but on the other hand also could understand – just as she, he assumed. Hoped. He hardly dared looking at her. Yes, at first he had been afraid she had succumbed to a demon’s call and, no, he had never really believed that she had. And yet his heart had raced with panic. She had waved his fears and shame about his silent accusations away with a shaky laugh and a reassuring smile but he was still afraid he had crushed her trust and had hurt her beyond repair. And that disturbing incident had happened even before that creepy apparition had revealed everything she definitely never had wanted to know.

And speaking about knowing: he knew her well enough to be certain that she would take all the blame of what her father had done on her shoulders, simply because he had done it in an attempt to protect her. Her brother had been right, though he had been right in his own small egocentric world and thus in the end had got it all wrong. What was indisputable, however, was that Malcolm Hawke had searched for a solution to prevent his daughter would destroy the world, probably accidently, or would be exploited by someone with bad intentions, like a Magister. She must feel devastated by the knowledge her father had started the fifth Blight because of that. With effort he suppressed a shiver. He squeezed her hand even harder. She gave him a short unfathomable look and after that persevered in staring into the darkness before them. She seemed to pick up her pace; she had hardly spoken a word after they had left those dungeons.

Hadriana ... no, he didn’t want to think of her and he definitely didn’t want to think about the appalling feelings she had awoken in him. Not now. He pressed Marian’s hand once more but before she could react they reached the cavern where such a lot of memorable things had happened.

He had killed his former tormenter here, Marian had raised out of the shackles and had rained doom upon their enemies. Their friends, in their will to free them, had finished off the last of the slavers.

Surprisingly all the dead bodies were gone and there was hardly a trace left of the ferocious battles. Instead the band’s confiscated weapons were neatly piled up in the middle of the cave, next to Marian’s and Fenris’s armour. They were well attended, cleaned and oiled. Varric hadn’t looked ever happier than when he was rejoined with Bianca.

‘Oh my sweetheart, I’m so pleased to see you well and unhurt. Give you’re papa a kiss,’ he babbled while he tenderly fondled the smooth red rosewood.

After he had donned his armour and had secured his sword on his back, Fenris took a moment to look around and his eyes fell upon Titia and the little elf that still seemed to be attached to her skirts as if she was fettered onto her. Up until now he hadn’t paid any attention to them because too many occurrences and emotions had swirled through his mind. And now he didn’t know how to react. The woman was another Tevinter mage and thus undoubtedly dangerous and evil. There was nothing he’d rather do than rip out her throat here and now. But on the other hand, she had defied Hadriana’s demand to assist her; in fact she had refused to fight at all. He hesitated how to deal with her. The ripping her throat out part was obvious not an option and of course he wasn’t really contemplating such action. But one way or the other, he wanted to make clear he didn’t trust her and would be watching her. The mage didn’t try to back away when he drew near but she did make an effort to push the little elf out of sight, while looking very cautiously at him. It puzzled him but then he realised his markings were faintly alight; apparently it was some kind of automatic reaction in the nearness of the Tevinter mage. He put them out but it did little to ease the terrified expression on the face of the elven girl.

‘Why are you trying to hide her?’ her blurted out. The elven slave twitched her face and seemed to shrink even more. The mage immediately drew her back into her robes. She whispered something that sounded like, ‘Shush sweetheart, I’ll make sure you won’t get hurt; stay behind me. I will protect you.’

Fenris frowned. _Am I such a frightening sight?_ He couldn’t care less if he scared the living daylight out of the mage but the small elf was another matter. He made a cautious step forward, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible, when he got caught in the ferocious look Titia threw at him.

‘Don’t you even dare to look at her,’ she hissed, ’I will guard her whether you like it or not.’

Fenris let out a mirthless laugh. ‘If there’s anyone here present I’d like to harm it will be you,’ he told her, ‘not a defenceless elven slave girl. You seem to have forgotten what I use to be myself. But I have to admit you mystify me. I don’t understand your urge to protect her; in your eyes she is just a slave, an object. And while we’re at it, why didn’t you help that – your _mistress_?’ That last word was spoken with so much disdain that Titia hardly could suppress a flinch. She almost backed away but stood her ground. She straightened her shoulders.

‘Because I despised her. I hated her. And Orana has suffered enough because of her.’ She defied him with flaming eyes.

Fenris, not in the least impressed, cocked one eyebrow. Though not impressed, he was even more puzzled. Of course mages in Tevinter hated each other, that was nothing new. And perhaps apprentices hated their masters even more. He knew for certain Hadriana hadn’t harboured warm feelings for Danarius, to put it mildly. But to willingly let them perish was something he had never heard of. ‘What did she do to you that was so bad? You’re no slave. You’re one of _them_.’

Titia clenched a fist. ‘She was a monster.’

Fenris scoffed. ‘In my experience all Magisters and their apprentices are monsters.’

The Tevinter mage defiantly stuck out her chin. ‘My father is not a monster,’ she said indignantly.

Fenris just snorted but said nothing; he didn’t intend to start a row over the subject, at least not at this moment.

‘Serah Fenris.’ Wynne suddenly appeared at his side. ‘Serah Titia has agreed to put herself into our custody. We have yet to decide what to do with her. Perhaps it’s better to leave her alone until that time.’

Fenris shot her a cool smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning to shred her to pieces,’ he said. Then he turned and went looking for Marian.

-

They were all very eager to get out of the cavern and after that were most astonished it turned out to be around mid-morning; the sun was shining in a bright blue sky, surrounded by a few fluffy white clouds.

‘It seems that Architect person has kept us longer in his den than we thought,’ Varric remarked. He was still holding Bianca close, or rather cradling her to his chest. ‘What do we do now?’

‘How about heading back to our camp and hope the bears or other scavengers haven’t made a mess of it?’ Isabela replied. ‘There ought to be some tents and provisions over there.’

‘Yes, of course, Rivaini, I also like to salvage as much as possible. I _meant_ what do we do about that mine? Do we stick with the original plan or turn back to Vigil’s Keep?’

‘Perhaps we’d better discuss that when we’re back at camp,’ Wynne said. Inadvertently every head turned to Hawke.

‘What?’ she said, somewhat irritated. ‘Wynne is right, stop staring at me. We will have plenty of time at camp to talk about what to do. Or bicker. Or yell.’ She had another pressing matter at her mind right now. And so, as soon as they had reached the camp that almost suspiciously untouched lay waiting for their return, she took her brother apart. She gently seized his arm and led them into the trees, away from the others.

Fenris hesitated but nonetheless decided to trail after them. Not to eavesdrop but to make sure that Carver wouldn’t hurt Marian once more. She had had a strained day enough as it was, she didn’t need any more hostilities from her brother to cope with. He kept his distance; he just wanted to observe them, in case he had to intervene when things got irrevocably pear shaped. And knowing Carver they would, at some point.

‘Carver,’ Hawke said urgently when they were out of earshot, ‘Mother must not find out what Father has done. Never. Do you understand me?’

‘She won’t hear anything from me,’ he grumbled, trying to break loose from her tight grip.

‘It would kill her to find out –‘

‘That her husband was responsible for the death of her youngest daughter?’

Hawke fastened her grasp and pursed her lips. ‘Don’t put it that way, that’s unfair,’ she hissed.

‘Especially because he did it to protect her eldest daughter,’ Carver continued mercilessly.

Hawke bit back a harsh retort. She let go of his arm. She closed her eyes in frustration, at the same time trying to prevent the tears from gathering. ‘You really persist on keeping acting like an insufferable prig, don’t you. Fine. Think what you will, as long as you keep Mother out of it.’ She started to turn away so he couldn’t see the salt water that despite her efforts was filling her eyes. She wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

Carver hung his head. ‘Marian,’ he said remorsefully, ‘I’m ... sorry. I didn’t mean it.’

She let out a deep sigh and turned back. ‘It’s not the first time you let your blather mouth getting the best of you and offend me,’ she said softly.

He tentatively touched her wrist, afraid she would shrink back or lash out. ‘I know. It was not my intention. And I’m also sorry about the blow I dealt you. But the shock was ... was ...’

‘Devastating. Yes, I know. It indeed was. For you even more than for me, I assume. You weren’t present at the gatherings with the Seeker and Wynne. You weren’t in Denerim.’

At those words Carver’s face twisted into an angry snarl. ‘Yes, it’s quite hard for me to travel free these days and guess whom I have to thank for that fact,’ he shouted heatedly.

Marian’s shoulders sagged. ‘You’re really impossible to talk to.’ She sounded hurt.

Fenris deemed it was time to interrupt. He might not have wanted to eavesdrop but it was hard to ignore Carver’s last words, as hard as it was to ignore Marian’s sad expression. He stepped forward. ‘I warned you about harassing your sister,’ he said, ‘I do hope you keep it civilized.’

He achieved the opposite of what he intended.

‘Do you really need your guard dog constantly watching you?’ Carver sneered derisively. The next moment his ears were ringing with the vicious smack his sister gave him. He staggered back, holding a hand against his stinging cheek. He stared wide-eyed at her.

‘You’re not the only one who’s on edge,’ Hawke spat, ‘and I’m totally fed up with your attitude. The one moment you’re a nagging juvenile, the next you act like a decent adult and before I can bat my lashes you return into a whining baby again. Such a pity you can’t run to Mummy to tell her all about the bad things I have done to you! That would make the circle round!’ With that she spun and ran further into the woods.

Fenris sighed heavily, cursing himself inside his head. He took a deep breath. ’I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interfered.’

Carver shook his head. ‘No,’ he said ruefully, ‘this is my fault. She is right. I can be a jackass, I know. I presume you don’t believe me when I tell you I have really changed during the past few months. Being convinced you are going to die but are saved at the last moment, does intend to do that to people. Not to forget the experiences I’ve had already with the Wardens.’ Forlornly he stared at his feet. ‘And all of that vanishes in just a couple of moments.’ He rubbed his brow. ‘Like every new experience vanishes in thin air when she makes an appeal on me and falls into the role of the elder, wiser sister. It’s like I’m back in Lothering or Lowtown  and try to fight her.’ He grimaced. ‘Because, in truth, I’m jealous of her. Because she _is_ wiser. And almost automatically I’m starting to behave like the juvenile she insists I am.’ He looked up at Fenris with a faint smile. ‘And the worst part is, she’s not wrong.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I make for a lousy brother. And a lousy brother in law,’ he added mocking.

‘I suppose we all are shaken with what has happened and been said,’ Fenris reacted cautiously. ‘I know I am. No one is at their best at the moment.’ Frankly he didn’t know what to do with this strange, open-hearted Carver.

The young Grey Warden looked up again. ‘Please go after her. I wounded her enough. Besides that I think you’re the only one who can calm her down.’

‘That’s not the first time I hear that,’ Fenris mumbled and set off to find her.

-

She hadn’t gone very far. About half a mile away she had sunk on the soft moss, in the middle of a grove of birches. Her back was leaning against a tree; she had pulled up her knees and folded her arms around them. A ray of sunlight, shining through the rustling leaves, touched her golden coils.

‘I truly wished I could control myself better,’ she sighed, ‘I shouldn’t have slapped him in the face. That was stupid. He had just recovered a piece of his pride and I took it from him within an instance. Dumb thing to do.’

It didn’t surprise him she had heard him approach, though his steps had been nimble.

‘A lot of things shouldn’t have been said and done,’ Fenris smiled contritely while he lowered himself to sit next to her, remembering his own thoughts. ‘I shouldn’t worry about your brother. He feels more remorse than you do.’ He hesitated but a moment before he said, ‘Perhaps you should focus on other persons.’ She turned her head to look at him and frowned. Fenris heroically soldiered on. ‘I for one should never have doubted you.’ He went on before she could protest. ‘But if we were capable to change our deeds, we would be sorry about them nevertheless, because there would be other outcomes and reactions we would regret.’ He stared straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.

She looked at him and suddenly laughed. ‘Such wisdom. Did you figure that out for yourself?’

He chuckled, despite himself and his feelings of guilt. ‘I just know that the two little words “what if” are undoubtedly the most uttered ones in the history of mankind. And the two most useless. There is no “what if”. It’s like two mirrors placed opposite each other; you can see your reflection into infinity and it never ends. “What if” is the same; it only brings up another endless string of possibilities you will be unhappy with or at least not totally satisfied. It’s better to look to the future, not dwell on what has been, or what you could have done.’

She leaned against his frame. ‘And yet you do the same,’ she said softly.

He let his fingers roam through her soft honey blond hair. ‘I didn’t say that understanding is the same as putting the knowledge into practice. We all make mistakes, we all do things we are sorry for. We all are inclined to hang onto the thought that we could have done better. After all, we are just mortals.’ Absentmindedly he put an arm around her and stared into the distance where between the trees he could spot the high peaks of the mountains, dipped in snow. He drew her closer, savouring the warmth she radiated. ‘There is, however, one thing that doesn’t deserve a “what if”’,’ he said hoarsely and his rough velvet voice crawled slowly down her spine. She buried her face in his shoulder, nearly shuddering with anticipation. ‘And that is the moment I decided to stay with you, despite those tormenting memories, despite the shock and desperation they carried with them. There is not one moment I ever regretted that choice.’ He swallowed. ‘I love you.’

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered, forcefully fighting back her tears. ‘You mean everything to me, I can’t even breathe properly without you being present.’

His breath hitched. ‘Marian, there are so many times you frighten me with your rash actions, so many times that I’m scared to death of losing you.’ His low voice resonated through her body, like little fingers that tenderly and at the same time powerfully touched every nerve end. ‘I can’t _afford_ losing you. I found your light, I can no longer live in the darkness.’

Marian cupped his face with both her hands. ‘You won’t lose me, not if I have anything to say about it,’ she pressed, ‘never.’

He claimed her lips with such a desperate urge it took her breath away. ‘Marian,’ he groaned, ‘My Marian.’ It sounded like a poem, flowing from his lips to heal her hurt.

He always made her come apart when he spoke her name in that molten dark sugar voice and this time it was even more potent. His tongue entwined with hers and his hands skilfully unclasped her armour. His bare fingers traced impatiently down her shoulders, setting her skin on fire. She followed his example, trembling trying to remove his breastplate as fast as possible. She basked in the feeling of his rippling muscles shifting under her touch. His mouth moved to the curve between her throat and shoulder and lingered there, until he planted his kisses behind her ear; she felt his tongue tickle the sweet spot where he could taste her arousal for him. Only for him. She whimpered his name and at the same time fumbled with the laces of his shirt to feel more of his naked skin. Her hands roved over his perfect chiselled chest, taking in every inch of it. His mouth travelled down her neck to her breasts and his lips caught a nipple while his silken moonlike hair caressed her face in its passing. She let her fingers trail through its wondrous smoothness. She wasn’t even aware of the soft keening sounds she made that drove him wild.

His hands wandered further down, removing on their way more clothing until they had left the most beautiful and desirable woman he knew and would ever know completely naked. He wanted to have all of her and all of her at the same time. Hungrily his fingers groped the flesh of her stomach and hips, all the while kissing her heated skin. The tip of his tongue playfully lightly touched her already swollen nub and he heard her stifle a cry. He kissed the creamy skin of her inner thighs while his fingers nimbly played with her calves and the inside of her knees. He had learned that could drive her completely insane.

She couldn’t help letting out another whimper. She tugged vehemently at his shirt at the risk of tearing up the fabric but finally she managed to remove the offending piece of clothing. Her hands welcomed the warmth of his skin. She felt him stroke those particularly sensitive parts of her legs and then his wicked tongue suddenly licked her folds in such an enticing way it turned her blood to liquid fire. She bucked her hips, biting her lip till it bled. Her fingers grasped his shoulders. ‘I want you,’ she rasped, ‘please Fenris, I want you now!’ His tongue started delving in her wet sheath and she bucked once again. Her breathing went ragged, her hands clasped in his hair.

She clutched his frame, folded her fingers around his toned arms and pulled him up to kiss him. ‘I love your tongue,’ she moaned, ‘but now I want to feel your cock. I want you inside me. Please!’ Not waiting for his reaction she flipped him and straddled him. Impatiently she removed his leggings and underclothes. Stooping over him she caught his lips with hers once again and let her tongue twirl around his; one hand leant on his chest, with the other she grasped his hard member and held it for a moment in her palm, feeling the velvety texture, moving her thumb over his smooth tip. He groaned in her mouth when she slowly pushed him inside her drenched core. She lowered herself, burying him deep inside her. He let go of her mouth and nibbled and bit the soft skin of her shoulder. She let out a squeal, very hard trying not to scream and at the same time increased her tempo. He revelled in her hot wetness and she in the way he completely filled her centre with his steel hard shaft. His mouth found hers again and their tongues followed the frenzied rhythm of their bodies until they almost choked.

Marian had to break their kiss the moment her orgasm flung her into a fiery torrent that almost deprived her of her senses. The walls of her soaked sheath clamped around his cock. Fenris pounded into her just a few heartbeats more before he followed her and she collapsed on his frame. They just lay silent for quite a while, panting heavily, fervently holding each other. Once more he marvelled in the way she wholeheartedly had given herself to him.

‘I will never let you go,’ Fenris finally managed, pressing his cheek to hers.

‘Nor I you,’ Marian replied, squeezing his shoulder.

Fenris lazily traced his fingers down her back.

Shards of the disturbing images of how she arose from the floor in that cave returned. Of how she had been the ultimate icon of a mage that took revenge, an icon he was too familiar with. Revenge and retribution had been the goal of all Tevinter mages. He had confronted that one Tevinter mage, Titia, with his anger. To take that anger out on her because he didn’t want to believe Marian could be like her, like so many Tevinter mages. Only now he realised how scared he had been. Scared that Marian, in the end, wouldn’t differ from the mages he had known for all his life. And at the same time he felt ashamed he ever had questioned her. Of course she differed, if alone because she knew her responsibility, if alone because she knew power was a dangerous thing to wield and would never abuse it. He could feel the soothing influence of the spirit in his head and disregarded it at the same moment. He didn’t need it. He understood, and felt very humble. He exhaled a trembling breath and kissed her brow. ‘Perhaps it’s better that we return to camp before they send a, er search party.’

Marian chortled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised they already have and we just aren’t aware of the pirate queen and the Antivan elf spying on us.’ And then she felt his tension. ‘You still feel guilty,’ she concluded.

‘I’m very hard trying not to.’

‘And you should. You have no reason at all.’

He heaved his head and gave her a withering smile. ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Before she could raise any objections he continued with a crooked smile, ‘Let’s hope we gave them a few lessons or at least a good time.’ He beat further reactions while he reached for his leggings. ‘You know, I’ve got so used to prying eyes that I think I’m going to miss it, once we are home again.’ He was relieved she took the bait.

Marian almost dropped her shirt. ‘You can’t be serious!’

He laughed out loud. ‘Of course not! I can’t wait for the moment we will be alone in our mansion with a new lock on the door and all the secret entrances boarded up.’

 _Our mansion,_ she thought, _without thinking he said our mansion._ And a warm glow spread through her body.

-

Hawke was half surprised they didn’t receive a round of applause the moment they got back at camp. She glanced suspiciously at Isabela who gave her an innocent look in return but Hawke couldn’t help noticing the amused little twinkle in the pirate’s eyes.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Sigrun said. She was stirring with a wooden ladle in some substance bubbling in a kettle that hung on a tripod over a fire. ‘And just in time I might add, lunch is almost ready. It’s rabbit stew, I hope you like it. But then again, you must be hungry.’

Hawke imagined she winked at her and for a dreadful moment she feared everyone had witnessed Fenris’s and her antics. She dismissed the thought at the same time. _And if they have, so what; it would make_ them _the perverts, not us. At least I feel much more relaxed by now._

‘What was the old saying again?’ Zevran piped up with a bright smile, ‘Ah yes, “hunger is the best sauce”, although,’ he added pensively, ‘that didn’t count for the awful brews Alistair used to concoct. No matter how hungry you were, you’d had a hard time downing those. And keep them down.’

‘Oh yes, I remember that all too well,’ Wynne grimaced. ‘The poor boy truly thought that the only way to make a proper meal was to cook the ingredients until they turned into some greyish mashed goo. And we hardly dared to comment on it because he looked like a kicked puppy when we did.’ They both laughed at the memory.

‘He insisted it was the Ferelden way to prepare food,’ Zevran grinned, ‘but I always thought it was a Grey Warden thing.’

‘Well, I don’t make a habit out of murdering the food after it’s already killed,’ Sigrun said a little tetchily, ‘but if you think you can do better, be my guest.’

‘Oh but my dear Warden, you are the shining exception to the gloomy rule,’ Zevran hastened to say, ‘you’re a wonderful cook!’

Sigrun shot him a sly smile. ‘Smooth talk all you want, you incorrigible flatterer, it’s your turn to cook the next meal anyhow, so don’t bother with buttering me up.’ She gave a last firm stir in the stew. ‘Grub’s up,’ she declared.

‘I think this will be a good time to discuss how to continue our trip,’ Wynne said after everyone had grabbed a bowl with rabbit stew and had taken a seat. Suddenly each of them was very busy studying the contents of their bowls, even Sigrun, who knew best of them what they held.

With a slightly annoyed groan Hawke looked up. It seemed she had to be the one to open the negotiations. ‘I say we go searching for that mine. What have we to lose?’

‘Our lives?’ Varric suggested.

‘Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re really afraid some nasty Archdemon will be waiting for us?!’ Marian exclaimed. ‘And if so, we can kill the culprit before it can even _think_ about starting a new Blight. Wouldn’t that be wonderful.’

‘It’s not only the threat of an Archdemon,’ Varric protested, ‘you heard what that Architect said: that amantium mine is as good as inaccessible for humans. I take it he also referred to dwarves and elves.’ He cocked his head. ‘Although, I suppose the metal must be buried really deep into the bowels of the earth if the dwarves can’t reach it.’

‘What happened to your courage, Story Weaver?’ Zevran teased, ‘not to mention your literary ambitions? Think about the epic story you can write about the heroic attempt to discover a mythical mine!’

‘Shut up, Honey-boy,’ Varric groused, ‘I happen to be very attached to my life and even more to Bianca’s, thank you very much.’

Marian looked perplexed. ‘Honey-boy?’ she mouthed at Isabela. The pirate queen just beamed. Beside her Fenris masked a snigger with an elegant cough.

‘I don’t know if I would like to venture into such a dangerous area,’ Berran said.

‘I told you before the mountains are the best place to disappear, no?’ Zevran said.

‘And what would you have me do?’ the Seeker reacted irritably, waving his spoon around, ‘turn into some kind of cave dweller?’ 

The Antivan elf shrugged. ‘You’d only have to wait until things have cooled down in Orlais.’

‘That will be forever,’ Berran growled, ‘the Seekers are not the forgetting types.’

‘I think you would look dashing in rabbit fur,’ Isabela made a contribution with a sinful grin.

‘Could you be serious for just once in your life?!’ Berran shouted furiously, his spoon now pointed accusingly at the pirate. A blob of stew dripped on his trousers which didn’t do much to improve his humour.

‘Be grateful she at least allows you to stay dressed,’ Varric remarked dryly, ‘I understand it can become pretty cold up in the mountains.’

The Seeker looked as if he was about to explode.

‘I agree with my sister,’ Carver intervened, ‘it won’t harm to take a look-see. If it is indeed too risky or too difficult to reach the place we can always turn back. But I think it’s silly to give up before we even know what awaits us.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Hawke said, trying to hide her astonishment, ‘but I don’t want to force anyone to come with me.’

‘I will follow you wherever you go,’ Fenris stated, ‘I thought it went without saying.’

’Of course elf, but you don’t have a choice, do you,’ Varric smirked. Fenris raised an eyebrow. ‘We would have to separate you two surgically. Could be painful.’

‘Look who’s talking,’ Hawke threw back with a dangerous glimmer in her eyes, ‘as if you could go properly for one moment without Bianca. Perhaps I should glue her to your chest hair while you’re asleep.’

The dwarf pressed his crossbow close. He looked panicked. ‘Okay, okay, you evil woman. I get the message. I’ll come with you.’

‘So we’re going to drag two prisoners along to where we may encounter Maker knows what kind of dangers,’ Berran said, ‘they will have an easy time to escape, run back to Minrathous and alert Danarius. It won’t be long after that before we have another Tevinter army on our tail.’

Everyone fell still. Reluctantly Hawke had to admit the Seeker had a point.

‘I can’t return to Minrathous,’ Titia timidly said in the middle of the silence, ‘Danarius would kill me. He wouldn’t believe for one minute Hadriana and her army were defeated and I’m the only survivor. Not without betraying her.’

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

‘She is right,’ Fenris finally supported her statement, be it grudgingly. ‘He will mark her as a traitor and put her to death. In a very gruesome way, undoubtedly.’

‘So, if we’d set you free, what would you do?’ Marian asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Titia confessed, ‘I have nowhere to go.’

‘You can always become a Grey Warden,’ Sigrun offered optimistically.

‘Yes, why not. Your organisation has always functioned as the wastebin of society,’ Berran scoffed.

‘Hey now!’ Carver started to get up.

‘Enough!’ Marian put down her metal bowl with a loud resonating thud on a convenient rock. ‘Titia, I think it would be wise to tag along for the time being, that is if the rest of you lot approve to travel with me to the Frostback Mountains.’ She looked around and met with a variety of agreement, from a radiant smile to a resentful mumble and a simple nod. ‘Good. Sigrun, is there a town between here and our target where we can buy new supplies?’

‘I think Lake Calenhad Docks would be the best place,’ the Grey Warden dwarf replied.

Ugh, again a place with heavy weighted history. _Don’t fret, you twat. What possibly could be worse than what you’ve experienced so far?_

She would find out soon enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, only now I realise I should have warned you about the saucy bits. Snivels and such. Sorry again.
> 
> Next chapter things only get worse and the Night-singer makes a rather dubious re-entrance.
> 
> I really appreciate your comments and kudos.
> 
> And, again, thanks very much for reading!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like promised: a new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 35

-

After the unexpected landslide, they had grimly soldiered on and eventually they had arrived at the outside of Orzammar, or the top-side as the dwarves called it. Or better even Top-side. You couldn’t ignore the capital, very important that one. It served as an exclamation mark in the way of a warning sign. It meant “Don’t go there! Dangers will await you!” More or less as on some maps an imaginative cartographer would write “Here be Dragons”. Only in this case it would probably say: “Here be Humans”, or perhaps, “Here’ll be Sky”, the dwarven equivalent of quicksand.

Stealthily Leliana looked around; nothing much had changed over the past eighteen odd months, but that was to be expected. Dwarves didn’t tend enthusiastically to changes and with King Harrowmont in charge the chances of exciting new developments were reduced to none whatsoever. Leliana mused if it had perhaps been better if they had supported Bhelen in their efforts to win the assist of the dwarves to fight the Blight, back then. Before Elissa turned into the Hero. That back then, the eighteen odd months back then, when they were but a ragtag bunch trying to accomplish the impossible, but in any case a determined ragtag bunch with an honest goal. _Unlike now_ , a little voice at the back of her thoughts kept badgering, _because_ _honesty has nothing to do with what you’re set out to accomplish this time._ She shook her head, stubbornly ignoring the irksome voice. Without doubt the pretender Bhelen would have dragged Orzammar kicking and screaming into more modern times but who knows what kind of problems and frictions that would have brought with it.

Leliana thought it wise to keep a low profile. You never knew if she would be recognized by one of the merchants and, regarding the secrecy of their mission, recognition could be bad. She especially avoided that weasel Faryn they had put under pressure while they were turning Ferelden upside down in search for Sten’s lost sword. She was certain he would remember the Qunari sooner than her but one couldn’t be careful enough.

They camped outside the bustling settlement, just to be safe. Due to the delay the landslide had caused, they had been forced to buy fresh supplies; otherwise they hadn’t visited the Top-side part of the dwarven city at all. Leliana just returned from gathering wood for the cooking-fire when she was called over by Beaugris.

‘Hey you, blanc-bec,’ he shouted at her. Reluctantly she approached him, prudently not paying attention to the insolence of being named a newbie. It had been his latest invention to harass her and she was convinced he did it just to try to draw her out. The captain sat on a tree stump, pouring over a map. ‘You know this sorry excuse for a country better than the rest of us. So tell me, what is the best route to Denerim?’

Leliana stared at the map, wondering if this was some kind of test. ‘Well?’ Beaugris growled impatiently. She came to the conclusion that if this _was_ a test it was a very stupid one and that more likely she started to suffer from paranoia.

She tried to remember the routes she had taken with Elissa Cousland and to visualise them. She took in a deep breath to let her voice sound as steady and confident as possible. ‘As you can see we have to travel over Gherlen’s Pass not far from here. When we reach Lake Calenhad we have three options. We can go south to Redcliff and take the West Road. The way will be relatively easy, it is however also a detour. On the other hand, we could take the Imperial Highway leading to the village of Lake Calenhad Docks and from there travel by the North Road. That will take us along the Coastlands, though, and in that region pockets of renegade Darkspawn still can be found.’ She pensively tapped her index finger against her chin.

‘And the third option?’

‘We can cross the lake by boat. There is no regular ferry service but we could pay some fishermen to take us across. On the other shore we can pick up the Imperial Highway again. There we can decide whether to venture the northern route to Lake Calenhad Docks and risk the Coastlands anyway, or to go south and choose for the West Road. That would be safer but on the downside we will find no town to replenish our provisions since Lothering was destroyed during the Blight.’

Beaugris stayed silent for a long time. The fact he didn’t snort derisively or looked at her in a demeaning way – he didn’t look at her at all – probably meant he was impressed. He absentmindedly drummed with his fingers on the tree stump. ‘Right,’ he said in the end, ‘and which route would you recommend?’

Leliana was flabbergasted. This was the first time he didn’t treat her with contempt or with sneering sarcasm or with hardly conceived hatred. She almost recoiled in shock but managed to keep on to her demeanour of the attentive subordinate without showing any emotion at all. ‘If you want my opinion Ser –‘

‘I just asked for it, didn’t I?’ he snarled.

Ah, this was more like it. No time for thinking. _For the Maker’s sake, just ramble on_. ‘I deem it is best to risk the Coastlands. It’s the shortest route to Denerim and we can stop at Lake Calenhad Docks.’ After some thought she added, ‘The rumours of the pockets of Darkspawn are – well, rumours. Old wives’ tales probably. And if it turns out the rumours are real, I don’t doubt we are able to deal with them when need arises. Ser.’

The look he threw at her could have crushed golems but she stood tall. ‘You dealt with them, you should know.’

Did she really detect a note of jealousy?? Had she misjudged him all along? Could it be he didn’t try to humiliate and waylay her because of her dealings with the Head of the Seekers but because he thought she was some kind of hero, having helped fighting the Blight? That would not only be utterly childish but even preposterous. _Bah. Men._ Well, certain kind of men anyhow. _On the other hand, probably less childish than the first reason._

‘Permission to ask a question Messere?’

Beaugris rubbed his hand through his face and she noticed he looked very tired. ‘Make it short, blanc – Junior Seeker.’

She never had apprehended that being in control could be so draining. She almost took pity on the captain. But of course she had known. Suddenly she remembered the way Elissa Cousland sometimes had looked, especially after a day she had been forced to make hard decisions: pale and completely worn out. Leliana worried her lip, she had never been the one who had to make those decisions, she had just followed. She never had to carry the responsibilities. And at that time she had felt invigorated, as she had believed she was driven by a holy force. She hardly had been tired or annoyed by all the little and bigger nuisances they had to cope with. This time was different. At this moment she could feel Beaugris’s tiredness herself.

Nevertheless she asked her question.

‘We assume our targets are still in Denerim but I find it hard to believe they have stayed there all this time. What do we do if they have moved on?’

Beaugris apparently gathered himself; at least he glared at her in his usual menacing way. ‘We pick up their trail and follow them. Don’t worry your head about it, it’s not your task to think. But rest assured we will get them, even if we have to invade the Black City. Now get that fire going.’

Leliana sighed inwardly. She didn’t know how Marian Hawke had developed in the past one and a half year, but even if the young woman had stayed her determined and confident self, they would have a hard time to take her captive without starting a bloodbath. She would have to conjure up some smart trick to avoid that. But, after all, she used to be a bard. Her mood lightened up a little at that thought.

-

The first thing Hawke noticed when they arrived at Lake Calenhad was not the peaceful picturesque village lying at its shores but the giant tower that rose from the waters like a dark threatening pillar of doom. It was a real eye-catcher, hard to avoid. She shuddered involuntarily. So that was the place where her father had lived, where he had invented his runes and hatched his schemes. She realised that where once she felt only love and admiration for the man, now the feelings she harboured were ambivalent to say the best about it. She didn’t hate him, although she had to admit she loathed the things he had done, but the unconditional adoration was gone. She considered it a great loss.

Wynne followed her gaze. ‘The Tower of Magi,’ she said, ‘my old home.’

Hawke had to remind herself that Wynne had lived there too. She forwent her thoughts about her father for the moment; they led to nothing concrete anyway, only to confusion or, worse, grief. ‘Good or bad memories?’

The mage chortled softly. ‘Both, I suppose. It wasn’t always an easy life, especially being locked up could be hard at times, but it was my home and I _felt_ at home there. It gave me rest, it gave me a purpose. You have been a renegade mage for your whole life, as was your sister. As was your father for a long time. All three of you had to hide your magic, I didn´t.´

´But you were nothing more than a prisoner,’ Hawke reacted brusquely.

‘Yes, Serah Hawke, you can look at it in that way. But I didn´t have to cope with the difficulties freedom brings with it. I didn´t have to avoid the Templars, I didn´t have to experience the fear of being discovered and brought to so called justice. The fear of being put to death or being made tranquil. No. I dare to state the Tower didn´t do me any harm. Mostly I was – content.’

‘And yet at the first opportunity you grasped the chance to flee your home.’ Hawke couldn’t help staring at the pinnacle with some contempt. She thought it a symbol of oppression and distrust.

‘I didn’t flee the Circle, Serah Hawke,’ Wynne said, a little reproachfully, ‘it was my intent to return. But after we had crushed the mages’ rebellion and killed Uldred, I deemed it more useful to offer my services to Elissa Cousland and try to end the Blight, instead of sitting back and idly waiting for the outcome.’

Hawke inwardly chastised herself. It wasn’t Wynne’s fault what her father had done; she didn’t deserve her grudge. ‘My apologies,’ she said, somewhat ashamed.

‘No need, Serah Hawke, I can understand your repulsion of the Circle, especially after your time in Kirkwall. But you seem to forget that it still is my home, despite the time I spend at Court nowadays. I’m the First Enchanter, after all. And I’m going to pay the Tower a visit after dinner, just to inform and see with my own eyes if everything is running like it should.’

‘Are we going to stand here all day, giving that Tower the evil eye,’ Varric interrupted, ‘or are we finally going to look for a tavern? I could kill for a decent pint.’

Zevran raised a hand. ‘Ah, my friend!’ he said cheerfully, ‘I know just the place. It’s called the Spoiled Princess and it doesn’t only serve fantastic ale but also a whole range of other tasteful beverages. That is, if they have replenished their stock after the Blight but I don’t doubt that. They had plenty of time, no.’

‘I hope they also rent civilized rooms with real beds to sleep in,’ Hawke sighed, ‘I’m fed up with tents and rocky mountain floors.’

Varric grunted. ‘You know how you are with rooms with a bed in them, especially when your elf is involved. You have turned it in some kind of fetish. I’m not certain I can find a suitable cat this time and I don’t want to demolish the door of some honest innkeeper, what with trying to be an upstanding Kirkwall citizen and all. So, how am I supposed to drag you out of bed tomorrow morning without making a scene while leaving the premises intact?’

Hawke laughed out loud, for the first time in days, she realised. ‘I promise I will just shout at you when you try to wake us and after that climb out of bed like a good girl.’

‘A dwarf can always hope,’ Varric muttered and he happily followed Zevran to the promised inn with the awaiting ale. Hawke observed he still held Bianca close to his chest. _True love,_ she mused and grinned.

-

Beaugris sauntered through the entrance of the tavern in a far too careless way, to Leliana’s opinion. Ever so often he intended to forget he wasn’t supposed to act like a Seeker but as a mercenary. Those might sometimes be boisterous, and that would be the lousy ones, by the way. The really good ones would be almost indiscernible. But even the lousy ones never walked into a place as if they owned it. That would be bad for business. They were supposed to act and hit like shadows. With this attitude he would attract the attention of every patron within no time. Grumbling under her breath she followed him.

And then she heard the voices. They sounded very distinctive over the general hubbub of the loud talking that filled the room and they stood out because she recognised them. Clearly. She became rigid. This could not be true. It was too much of a coincidence, but here they were.

‘Damn it, Isabela! The way you always succeed in finding such repulsive objects is simply uncanny!’

She knew that voice, it belonged to a time of peace and quiet. It belonged to the carefree time she spent in the Chantry of Lothering. It belonged to Marian Hawke. And then it went worse.

‘Ah, cara mia, but consider the advantage of embarrassing your enemies to death before stabbing them.’

And this honeyed voice she knew even better. This one belonged to the exotic Antivan elf ... _shit_!

Without thinking Leliana grabbed Beaugris’s cloak and jerked him outside the inn before he had fully entered the tap-room. He stumbled over his feet and had to reach for the wall to keep his equilibrium.

‘What the hell are you doing!’ he seethed. ‘Have you gone completely out of your mind!?’

 For a moment Leliana thought he would attack her. ‘Marian Hawke is in there,’ she said anxiously before the captain could start to shout out loud at her – or worse – ‘together with an apparently mutual friend who would recognise me on the spot.’

He stared at her and snapped his mouth shut. The others looked warily at them, not certain if there wouldn’t follow a furious rant. But after a few moments a wide grin spread on the captain’s face and the group breathed more freely. Only now Leliana became aware she had been so tense her teeth ached from clenching them. ‘It seems we’ll not have to chase them all the way to the Black City after all.’ He cocked his head in a moment of contemplation and then gestured to them to follow him. He walked to the shore of the lake and stopped beside a couple of rowing boats, most likely fishing boats, drawn on land for the night. He stared at them for a moment before he turned sharply to Leliana.

‘I suppose if Marian Hawke is in there, Berran will be present too. And that Fereldan mage, Wynne. Who is that mutual friend you spoke of? Will he be a danger?’

‘He is a former Crow,’ Leliana said meekly. Her knees almost sagging with relief Beaugris hadn’t take her rash action badly. ‘He was part of our group trying to stop the Blight.’

‘So he trusts you.’

She knew what he was referring at and could only nod.

Beaugris beamed broadly, giving the rowing boats a last look before returning to her.

‘Well, _Seeker_ , you venture in there, make up some smart story and lure our targets out. We will do the rest.’

-

Hawke still stared appalled at the pair of daggers Isabela had revealed. Fenris, on his part, still tried to stifle his badly obscured smirks. He didn’t dare to look at Varric and definitely not at Marian. He was certain he wouldn’t survive it. In several ways.

‘They’re nothing but a bunch of phalluses with an edged side!’ Hawke cried out, her eyes reluctantly gazing at the hilts of the daggers that left nothing to the imagination.

‘Aren’t they always, sweetness,’ Isabela purred, ‘and don’t tell me you don’t like them. They serve a purpose. Like Zevran stated, shove this in the face of the one you’re fighting and he will yield in an instant. Or will be so astounded it will be no trouble at all to finish him off. Or do you think they can be useful in – another way?’ She let the question, or rather suggestion, linger in the air.

Hawke looked even more panicked. She was definitely no prude and could appreciate a joke when she saw one, but Isabela had the overwhelming tendency to take things beyond the limit. Right now she had the audacity to defy her. She brought her hand to her ample bosom. ‘I didn’t know you were such a stick in the mud, not with all the noises you can make that leave a whole Keep in an uproar – or frighten the forest animals away.’ _Aargh! Maker!_ ‘Please don’t tell me my last gift has gone to waste!’ she exclaimed theatrically.

Hawke kept a firm face while trying not to blush or murder Isabela with her glare. ‘You mean the underwear.’ Sometimes she wished she had the same erotic wit as her friend. It came so easy to the pirate queen. Helplessly she cast a sidelong glance at Fenris. At moments like this she felt such a lump of a Fereldan peasant girl.

The pirate rolled her eyes. ‘The _lingerie_ , you mean,’ she emphasised, ‘Orlesian lace, no less.’

‘You mean the wonderful almost non-existent sinful red set you bought in Amaranthine,’ Fenris came to Marian’s rescue. She turned fully to him just in time to catch his devilish grin. ‘Yes, we enjoyed that very much.’

She was saved by the bell. Sort of.

‘Serah Hawke,’ a hesitant voice sounded, ‘is that really you? I was afraid you had perished with all the other inhabitants of Lothering! How wonderful to bump into you!’

 Marian turned her head and caught the sight of the former lay-sister Bethany had liked so much. The red-haired beautiful looking rogue, as Hawke remembered her, more than as the lay-sister she wanted to represent at that time, because she had taught her more than one splendid trick to survive and had improved her dagger-wielding skills significantly.

‘Leliana!’ she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. ’How nice to see you! What brought _you_ here?!’

Zevran had stood so fast his chair had tumbled over. He reached for the rogue’s hand and kissed it gallantly. ‘My sweet little songbird, I’m enthralled to meet with you again.’ He smiled brilliantly. She returned the favour.

‘My dearest Zevran, long time no see. Still the notorious flatterer, I notice,’ she laughed. Her eyes started to shine when they fell upon Wynne. The mage regarded her with a warm expression.

‘Leliana! So good to see you again. Life has been kind to you, you look great.’

Zevran let go of Leliana’s hand so she was able to embrace Wynne. After that she looked intently at her. ‘It has only been one and a half year. How much does one change in such a short period of time?’ But the badly concealed worry with which she took in Wynne’s face spoke volumes and Fenris felt a twang of guilt.

‘I’m perfectly alright, dear.’ Wynne gave her wan smile. ‘Now tell me, how are you faring with studying the ashes of Andraste?’

After she had been introduced to the members of the party she didn’t know yet – including the Marquis Albert Berran whom she gave a polite nod – she sat down on the bench next to Marian Hawke. She gratefully seized Wynne’s question to enthusiastically prattle for a while about the expeditions to the temple of the holy ashes she had participated in. She declared that she was here for the start of another mission. She had arrived early, she told them, the other participants would join her within a few days. Then she informed innocently what _they_ were doing in Lake Calenhad Docks.

For a heartbeat Hawke was at a loss. There was no way she could tell Leliana the truth and she was fervently searching for some kind of acceptable story.

‘You could say we’re on a mission as well,’ Wynne said with an eloquent smile. ‘A secret one. I’m sure you understand.’

Oh yes, she understood. She understood all too well. And in that moment Leliana knew what she had to tell them. She would use the truth to lure them in. The truth disguised as a warning. To her dismay, however, Wynne stood and announced, ‘I will take my leave now, I’ll see you all in the morning.’

Hawke also got up. ‘Let me accompany you, just to make certain you reach the ferry safely.’

But Wynne waved her off. ‘No need, Serah Hawke. I have already informed the ferry-man Kester and he will be waiting for me. What could possibly go wrong?’

 _I can think of at least one thing,_ Leliana thought with distraught. Her mind was racing. Apparently Wynne went to visit the Tower; how could she prevent her from going? She could go after her and hand her over to Beaugris but that would barely be possible without casting suspicion on herself. There was so little time; tomorrow morning their targets would travel on and capture them in broad daylight would be much too risky. They would see them literally coming form miles away. She glanced at Wynne while she walked out of the room and again saw how frail she looked in comparison to the last time she had seen her. She hesitated and then decided she would let her escape her fate. Beaugris didn’t know the mage and so wouldn’t recognize her and, besides that, he wouldn’t act without her signal. She felt a weight being lifted from her shoulders. From the beginning she had had a hard time believing Wynne was involved in some dark plot; the woman was far too forthright. She was glad she walked free.

Her main concern right now was that strange elf Fenris. He had been the only one who hadn’t smiled at her when they were introduced and he had been silently observing her the whole evening. She had got the eerie feeling he looked right through her and could read her thoughts as if he was dissecting her mind. His eyes were unsettlingly piercing. She had to confess to herself he was devastatingly handsome, even with the eccentric whirling white tattoos, or perhaps they emphasised his beauty even more. No, not beauty, that was the wrong word; it sounded as if he was feminine. Or a statue. Good looks? Too common. Alright, gorgeousness. He was more breathtaking than Zevran and she’d always considered him – _gorgeous_. But where Zevran was cheerful and witty and a very well-expressed talker, _sweet_ talker, Leliana reminded herself fondly, (because you could forgive Zevran anything), this Fenris stayed quiet and stoic. She’d found out very soon he was Marian Hawke’s lover and that made things even more complicated. She could see and feel he was the protective kind in the way he was watching her. She had to be very convincing to get Marian Hawke alone. _A statue? A perfect chiselled one at that._

She caught herself musing whether this elf was as good a lover as the Antivan one and wanted to slap herself. But then again she would never forget the one tumble she had had with Zevran, the way he had set her on fire and had made her feel like a true woman. Yes, you _could_ forgive him anything. Just for that. She supposed Elissa Cousland would back her on that one. _Alistair must not know,_ she had whispered in the dark of the night when they were sharing their secrets at camp. And of course she’d known Elissa truly loved the man who now was the King of Ferelden and her husband to boot. But they had – secretly – shared the pleasures the former Crow was able to grace them with. They had giggled like milkmaids, she remembered. It seemed such a long time ago. And would this Fenris be the same? She doubted it. He seemed to be the type to love one woman and stand by her. To defend her to his death. As a bard she shook her head. As a bard she would go with Zevran’s point of view. As a woman, however, she envied Marian Hawke for having such a man looking after her.

-

Leliana was standing before the door of the room the couple had hired for the night and took a deep breath before rapping the wood of the door. She heard the sound of muffled voices before the entry was opened and revealed a strained looking Fenris. She dug up her most disarming smile. ‘I would like to speak to Marian, please?’

He stared at her in that disconcerting way of his. ‘Why?’

‘Oh Maker’s breath, Fenris,’ she heard Hawke call out, ‘don’t be so suspicious! It’s only Leliana!’

‘Wait here,’ he told her; it sounded like a warning. Leliana sighed. She had already convinced Berran to go outside and wait for her; it had gone easier than she had anticipated beforehand. He had looked very darkly at her but had gone downstairs without much objection.

‘This better be not be a trap,’ he had growled but she had managed to assure him she just had important information. Essential information. She tried to stay patient but her heart raced. They had to move quickly if they wanted to succeed and she already had Wynne let escape in a very unprofessional way. She closed her eyes. Yes, she felt guilty but then again, Villefranche had promised her that nothing bad would befall the prisoners. They had been playing dangerously and they would be interrogated – nicely. _They_ had been the ones crossing forbidden boundaries. It was for Marian Hawke’s own good she would learn that no action would go without consequences. And that she was there to protect her. She shivered at what Beaugris could do but he wouldn’t dare, would he? And then again, _she would be there._ At Villefranche’s bidding, no less. No, even his request, his order. _Damn it, Leliana, it is high time to eliminate your foolish sentiments._ She snapped her eyes open and watched Fenris re-enter the room and heard the urgent discussion between him and Marian Hawke. She stepped back and waited for the result.

-

‘I don’t want you to go with her on your own.’

‘Oh come on, Fenris, you are making a big deal out of nothing.’

‘I don’t trust her. How well do you know her anyway?’ He was pacing the room, avoiding her gaze. But she didn’t need to see his face to know he was glowering.

‘Enough to know she presents no harm. She was a lay-sister, for the Maker’s sake! My sister’s friend! She taught me how to fight properly with daggers! Why are you so concerned? I don’t understand.’

He sighed frustrated. ‘I don’t know. There’s something about her I can’t fathom. I don’t trust her intensions.’

‘You’re getting paranoid again. You have no reason. Hadriana is dead.’ The moment the words left her mouth, rather snappish, she regretted them. He hadn’t been willing to talk about the subject. In fact, he had avoided it adamantly and she had given up coaxing a reaction out of him. She assumed he was still trying to figure out how he felt about everything that happened and the last thing she wanted was to use force when he needed time. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered remorsefully.

He didn’t reply. He just waved his hand. He didn’t want to look at her when he finally said, ‘Go with her. Talk with her. But know that I will be watching over you.’

How could he express to her he had some nasty misgivings? Again? After all the other ones he had pestered her with? After he had got himself into an almost dead situation because of it, forcing Wynne to give something too precious? And after he almost got Marian killed ... _Venhedis!_ He grew sick of his own hunches. He grabbed the rear end of the double bed and clutched the wood so vigorously his knuckles went white. 

‘Fenris?’

He let go of the bed and rubbed his face.

‘Forgive me, I’m overreacting.’ He felt the tentative touch of her hand on his. He turned and took her in his arms. ‘I’m probably making an enormous fool of myself.’

‘You do have the tendency of becoming overprotective,’ Hawke giggled softly, ‘and how endearing that may be, it can get rather annoying. I know how to defend myself.’

He kissed her tenderly. ‘Yes, I’m aware of that. Now go and have your little chat before I change my mind and tie you up to the bedpost after all.’

‘There will be plenty of time to play that intriguing game afterwards,’ Marian sniggered. ‘Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back before you know it.’

He watched her leave with the red-haired former bard and resumed his restless pacing once more. Little icy tentacles shot through his body and it was all he could do not to ignite his markings. He needed some wine to calm down. The moment he entered the landing, his eye fell upon the open window and he walked over to close it. No need to make it that simple for whatever intruder with bad intensions. He groaned inwardly. _Fasta vass. I truly_ am _becoming totally paranoid. Stop that!_

He reached for the shutter and froze at the same moment. From somewhere outside a dull thud sounded, followed by a muffled cry. Without a second thought he ran back to the room, picked up his sword and flew down the staircase. There was no time to don his armour. He dashed through the door, stared after by a few baffled patrons who were still gathered in the tap-room. He needed a few heartbeats to adjust his eyesight to the darkness outside the inn, but then he saw movement close to the shore of the lake. He could distinguish several figures; it looked like they were struggling. Another cry rang out. Her voice, no mistake possible. The thought someone would lay a finger upon his lover gave him wings and he sprinted forward, his sword heaved.

‘Marian!’ he roared.

The next moment red-hot pain bloomed in his shoulder. He stumbled but pure fury and dread kept him going on. There was the sound of sloshing of boats being pulled into the water, he could see a motionless form being dragged along by two others. ‘No! I won’t allow it!’ he screamed. Someone bellowed an order and immediately a new explosion of pain deprived him of his breath. He staggered and this time fell on his knees. He wrestled desperately to get up again but failed despite his frantic efforts. The world around him started to spin and he tasted blood that began to fill his mouth. ‘Marian,’ he gurgled before he lost his consciousness.

In the distance two boats rapidly disappeared over the still waters of the lake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this it where the shit really hits the fan... forgive me my Klatshian.
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading!


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

-

Not much later, Varric and Carver found Fenris close to the waterline, lying motionless on his side. They had been alarmed by the commotion coming from outside the inn. There hadn’t been a moment’s doubt that it was the elf they heard hollering at the top of his lungs, and even less doubt something was very wrong. He never roared like that, unless he unleashed his battle cry and, moreover, he had been screaming out Marian’s name. Without thinking they had followed the racket, and since they shared a room, they arrived together. They hadn’t even had to look at each other before they stormed off; they had reacted simultaneously, there had been no need of communication.

Varric knelt next to Fenris who still was holding his sword as some sort of lifeline. An arrow had pierced his right shoulder, another one was protruding from his chest. Blood trickled in a thin but disturbing rivulet out of the corner of his mouth.

‘Bloody hell, elf, what have you done this time,’ the dwarf groused upset. After he was convinced that Fenris was still alive, he carefully turned him on his back and removed the sword from his clasp.

Carver stared to the lake. ‘Where is Marian?’ he asked with swift growing unease.

‘I don’t know and the only one who can solve the riddle is busy dying. Again, I might add,’ Varric replied angrily. At that moment the others arrived, almost at the same time together.

‘I heard shouting,’ Sigrun panted, ‘what’s going on – fuck! Is he...’

‘Not yet,’ Varric said grimly, ‘and not if I can prevent it. Junior, run to the ferry and if that guy, what’s his name, isn’t there you tear down this whole village to find him. Or better even, take his boat and row to the Tower yourself. We have to get Wynne over here as fast as possible.’ While Carver hurried away, Varric noticed the Tevinter mage standing behind Sigrun, the little elf Orana at her side; they were both clutching the same robe. ‘Can’t you do something?’ It sounded more like an order than as a question.

Titia shook her head apologetically. ‘I’m afraid not, Ser dwarf. I don’t know anything about healing magic.’

_No, you undoubtedly know a lot more about the destructive kind,_ Varric couldn’t help thinking and realized at the same time it was something Fenris would have said. ‘Don’t you dare to die, you bloody bastard,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.

‘Why isn’t Marian here, screaming and cursing?’ Isabela piped up.

‘Because, Rivaini, it’s quite evident she has been abducted,’ Varric snapped impatiently, ‘perhaps you’d better look for tracks or prints or other clues instead of asking smart questions. And let someone get a blanket and bandages and clean water. By the ancestors, must I spell it all out to you lot or could you show some initiative yourselves?!’

‘Perhaps we should get him inside,’ Sigrun suggested hesitantly.

‘And perhaps we shouldn’t do that at all,’ Varric scoffed. ‘I don’t know what damage we’ll cause should we move him. Maybe you consider yourself dead already but I’d like to keep this one alive, if you don’t mind. And I know what I’m talking about; this isn’t the first time he plays this trick. He’s making a nasty habit out of it.’

Sigrun and Zevran exchanged a quick glance. Isabela had already scuttled off to look for all the traces she was able to find and Titia had run back to the inn with Orana in tow. The two of them were the only ones left standing in the line of fire of the dwarf’s upset anger. And this infuriated Varric was very confusing, if not scaring.

‘I can understand you’re disconcerted, my friend,’ Zevran said tentatively, ‘but I don’t think shouting at everyone will improve the situation.’

Varric grunted loudly. ‘I know, alright, but it’s getting on my nerves. How do you think Hawke will react when she finds out her precious elf is dead? You _know_ how she will react, you saw her back in Denerim. I’m not sure I will be able to handle that. And speaking of Hawke, where, by Andraste’s flaming tits, is that woman?! What happened to her? I mean, writing an epic whatever is all good and well and I’m willing to go through all sorts of struggles to get it right, but constantly dealing with all this kind of disasters is getting too much. I’m just a merchant and a storyteller, not a hero and a trouble-shooter.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Sigrun’s voice rang vibrantly in the awkward silence that fell after Varric’s heated words. ‘You would defend Hawke as viciously as her elf has done. You would go to all heights to save her ass. Don’t fool me with your I’m-just-a-merchant-and-storyteller crap.’

Varric looked up at her with a weak smile. ‘She’s the heroine of my stories, what would I write without her around, doing all kinds of unbelievable, stupid courageous stuff?’

Sigrun snorted, ‘You mean like _you_ do, following her into the heart of Ferelden, right into all kinds of danger? I simply don’t believe you did that just to write a good story. You’d rather lose Bianca than her.’

‘Now look here!’ Varric flared up but deflated practically at the same moment. He sighed heavily and looked at Fenris’s pale face, even paler in the bright moonlight. ‘Yes,’ he gave in, ‘I confess I’ve grown fond of her. And of this former broody bugger here. I’d hate to see something nasty befalls them. They’ve had enough to deal with already and now another catastrophe has happened. Blast it all.’ He bit back tears because Varric Tethras never cried.

 Titia returned, carrying a bucket with water. She was accompanied by Orana who held a stack of bandages and clean cloth. The innkeeper of the Spoiled Princess trailed after them, offering a blanket. He looked concerned. ‘I have brought some healing poultices,’ he said, ‘perhaps they will come in handy. I’m very sorry for what has happened.’

‘There was little you could have done,’ Zevran said soothingly, trying to put the man at ease. He worriedly noticed the curious crowd that was forming behind the innkeepers back. ‘Perhaps you’d better call those people back into your establishment or send them to their homes. They won’t do any good in the current situation. We have summoned a healer but we would be much obliged if you keep your door open for the moment we can take the injured person back to his room.’ He unfolded his most charming smile and could just refrain himself from patting the man and adding _there’s a good chap._ He fervently hoped the innkeeper wasn’t the type of human who saw an elf and thought “knife-ear”. Thankfully he didn’t get disappointed.

‘Of course,’ the innkeeper hastened to say, ‘that won’t be any trouble at all.’

Zevran exhaled relieved.

The next one to pop up was Isabela. ‘A lot of footprints,’ she reported, ‘at least eight or nine persons, as far as I could see in this dim light. And two boats have been pulled into the lake, no mistaking that. And, by the way, where is our lovable Seeker?’

The others looked puzzled at each other.

‘He shared a room with Varric and Hawke’s tasty but grumpy brother,’ Isabela continued, ‘where has he gone? If he isn’t here, he’s either also dragged away or he has betrayed us all. Together with that innocent looking songbird,’ she added nastily.

While they were discussing this precarious issue, Carver and Wynne arrived. The latter didn’t bother with questions or answering Isabela’s barely veiled accusation but immediately set to work. She examined Fenris and was visibly relieved. ‘He won’t like to hear it, but the spirit has prevented a lot of damage,’ she said with a quivering smile. ‘Carver, I will lay my hands upon his chest. Pull out the arrow as fast and straight as you can.’

The moment Carver yanked the arrow out of Fenris’s chest, Wynne started to activate her healing powers, covering the elf with bluish light. He responded with a faint glowing of his markings but didn’t wake up yet. They repeated the action to remove the arrow out of his shoulder. Wynne puffed out a deep breath when it was done. Titia, who had followed her ministrations closely and with great interest, kneeled next to Fenris’s body and started to wipe the remaining blood away with one of the cloths Orana had brought with her. ‘I would like to learn this art,’ she said meekly, ‘it seems very useful.’

Wynne sat back on her heels and observed the young woman. ‘Would you now?’ she said, smiling faintly. ‘Then perhaps, instead of going to be a Grey Warden, as our stout dwarf suggested, you could consider becoming my apprentice.’

Titia looked up, surprised. ‘I’d like that. If you would allow it.’

‘I would. But I think it’s better if we discus that matter at a later time. Let’s start with getting Fenris back to his room. And after that we have a lot of issues to talk about and problems to solve, I’m afraid.’ She shifted her gaze to Isabela. ‘I’m positive Berran hasn’t betrayed us, my dear. He isn’t the betraying type. You know as well as I that the Seekers were chasing us and I’m convinced that he, just like Serah Hawke, has fallen victim to them.’ Isabela opened her mouth to protest but Wynne beat her to it. ‘And before you’re going to condemn Leliana, I’m quite certain she acted out of good meant intentions and has been misled. Maker knows what lies she has been told. And don’t doubt she has allowed me to escape. Otherwise I would have been taken captive as well. Of that I’m certain.’

The pirate queen mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like _I didn’t trust that red-haired treacherous cunt at first sight_ but she had the decency to avert her eyes and at least make an attempt at looking ashamed. She fooled no one.

-

The first thing Hawke noticed was the rolling of waves and the sloshing of water, although very faintly. This was not the sea. _Lake Calenhad_ was the first thought that sprang to mind when she could think clearly again. Her head hurt like hell, but nevertheless she tried to remember what happened. It came very slowly and very sluggishly to her. _I must have a concussion_. _Again..?_

And then it hit her like a trampling ogre.

_Fucking_... _whatever_... The curse words got tangled up, even on the silent inside of her head. She had followed the red-haired lay-sister – _lay-sister my ass, bloody deceitful bitch she turned out to be, I’ll kill her and after that I’m not done with her, that little filthy lowlife –_ she almost choked. Not only her words, trying to take form in her mind, but also the gag they had graced her with, gave her little space to breathe. And at the same time she was furious with herself. She had walked into the trap like a gullible waif. Fenris had been right, she should have listened to him.

She had followed Leliana and was surprised to find Berran outside the inn. The foul witch had started to tell them she was there to warn them, to tell them the Seekers were on their tail – as if they didn’t know that already. She had just distracted them. But the moment Berran and she had looked alarmed at each other and started to draw their weapons, it had been too late. She had tried to fight the assailants off but she had stood no chance whatsoever. She had tried to scream, she had known for certain Fenris would have heard her, but before she knew it she had been overwhelmed. She had fought for all she was worth and had managed another frantic cry before someone had knocked her flat out.

And now here she was, in a boat on the middle of the lake, bound and gagged, sufficiently incapacitated. She wanted to cry, to give in to desperation but she refused to do so. With stubborn force she strained herself. There was always a way out. _There is always a way out._ Nevertheless, she felt her tears starting to fall. Immediately she gave herself a mental whack around the ears. _This isn’t the moment to break down, you twat. I_ will _find a way out._

-

Back in the room in the inn Fenris woke with a start. ‘Marian!’ he cried out, bolting upright.

‘Oh shit, there we’ll have it,’ Varric groaned.

Wynne gave him a stern look and he reluctantly backed down. Sigrun grasped his hand. To his surprise he felt a little bolt of electricity prickling his skin. His so long neglected skin. He tried to ignore it and pulled his hand away. _Damn it, you idiot_ , he inwardly reprimanded himself. Here was a fascinating dwarf, worthy of his attention, and he shrank back like the first toddler still hanging onto his mother’s skirts. H _ere_ you _are with your big mouth._ But surely only Bianca’s smooth rosewood skin was worth all of his attention..?  Of course it was.

And then, as he had feared, hell broke loose. More or less.

Fenris took off like a launched rocket. He swapped away Wynne’s soothing hand, elbowed Titia aside and dashed to the exit. He jumped down the stairs, dived through the door and sprinted to the shore as if a horde of demons was on his heels. Or sooner as if he was pursuing one. Carver was the first who managed to catch up with him before he hurled himself into the lake. Not moments later Varric found himself hanging onto the elf’s legs while Carver held his arms.

‘You idiot!’ the dwarf yelled. ‘Come to your senses!’ 

The only one who held her wits together turned out to be Sigrun who, without a second thought, simply struck the desperate elf unconscious with the hilt of one of her daggers.

‘What?’ she shrugged while the others gaped at her. ‘Would you rather he drowned himself or killed one of you in his frenzy?’

‘Don’t you think that was a little drastic?’ said Carver reproachfully. ‘He was injured already, no need to harm him even more.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Isabela said, before a heated argument could break out. She stooped over and picked something up out of the mud, something she had overseen during her first investigation. She flipped the object with her fingers and squinted. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. An Orlesian sovereign. Now we know for certain the Seekers are involved.’

‘Not that I had any doubts about it but it’s nice to have evidence,’ Varric grumbled. He let go of Fenris’s legs, stood up and tried without much success to remove the dirt from his trousers. He indicated the elf who still was lying motionless. ‘What do we do with this one? Carry him inside once more or wait here until he comes by? I hope you didn’t hit him too violently, Cheeryface, or it could take hours.’

‘Don’t fret, I know exactly how to – _what did you call me?!_ ’

‘Ah yes. Despite the fact you think about yourself as some kind of walking corpse, you manage to smile quite a lot. So, yes, Cheeryface it is.’

Sigrun glared suspiciously at him. ‘Are you sure you aren’t referring to my merry facial tattoos, a reminder of my happy times in Dust Town, in some kind of amusing sarcasm?’

Varric put a hand to his heart, looking hurt. ‘Madam! I’d never make fun of your history or situation. I wouldn’t dare!’

Sigrun kept staring at him with piercing eyes and a barely masked little smirk, but she got interrupted by Fenris who stirred and sat up with a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck.

His head was throbbing as if he was hit with a blunt object and at first he had difficulty with focusing. A moment later the truth shot through him like a lightning bolt and he jumped up. His vision blurred and he staggered. Instinctively Carver grabbed his arm and steadied him.

Sigrun took a step back. ‘Listen, Fenris, before you get hysterical again and start to glow and rip out random organs, try to calm down. Save that behaviour for Hawke’s kidnappers.’

Fenris regarded her through bleary eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘Quite a lot,’ Varric said. ‘You do remember Hawke got –‘

‘Yes, I do,’ Fenris snarled, ‘I mean, what happened after that.’ He turned to stare at the lake. The dark waters innocently reflected the lights of the village and of the large looming Tower of Magi. Somewhere over there Marian was in great danger. He fought down the urge to take the first fishing boat to go after her. He vaguely recalled the arrows but he seemed not to be injured; at least not any more. ‘I believe I was shot at.’

‘Yes you were,’ Varric said, ‘but let us explain the part how you ended up on this shore for the second time over some drinks. In preference inside the Spoiled Princess. And keep in mind who the real enemies are.’

-

Fenris sat nursing a glass of wine in the tap-room of the inn and glared viciously at Wynne. ‘You can talk all you want but I’m still not convinced Berran isn’t involved.’

‘That wouldn’t make any sense.’ The First Enchanter was getting very tired. ‘If he were an accomplice of the Seekers, and I just _know_ he isn’t, why would he have waited so long to betray us?’

‘To choose the right moment?’ Isabela suggested. It was no secret she didn’t bear warm feelings for the man.

With growing frustration Wynne threw her hands in the air. ‘He had lots of opportunities in Kirkwall! I absolutely can’t see the logic of hauling Serah Hawke off to Denerim and trailing after her through half of Ferelden, to finally let her take captive here in Lake Calenhad.’

‘Unless he wanted to gather as much information as possible,’ Isabela cunningly pointed out.

‘Even so, Rivaini, none of us knew we would end up in this place,’ Varric put in a word. ‘When and how, do you figure, had he been able to send a message to his partners in crime to inform them we would be here? At this time?’

Isabela shrugged. ‘As I see it they could have arranged everything back in Val Royeaux; who knows how long that pack of wolves have been waiting here for us to arrive.’

‘You forget Berran didn’t know anything about that map with the location of the mine. He had no reason to assume we would visit Lake Calenhad. No, I think it’s safe to delete him as a suspect,’ Varric stated firmly. Just as Isabela he didn’t like the Seeker very much but, on the other side, he did not detest him either. The pirate’s arguments just weren’t rational.

‘Ugh, reason all you like, I still don’t trust him!’ Isabela downed her rum in one go and slammed the empty glass on the table.

Fenris leaned back in his chair. He felt completely wretched as if he had torn his own heart out; it literarily hurt physically not to be able to reach out and touch Marian. He had grown so used, no, even accustomed, to holding her hand or putting his arms around her that without her warm and familiar presence he felt disabled and incomplete, as if he missed a limb. And it hurt even worse knowing he could have prevented it. He should have been far more persistent; he should have gone with her or, better even, should have persuaded her to have that so called little chat in their room, instead of outside the inn. He still couldn’t believe he had been so stupid and short-sighted as to let that happen. Maker knew what she was going through right now because of his slackness. He remembered his own captivity and was barely able to suppress a shiver. He clenched his fists in powerless agony.

‘And what about that sly little bard of yours?’ he heard Isabela say to Wynne in a spiteful tone. ‘Do you insist upon defending her as well, or are you finally willing to admit she’s nothing but a scheming cold-hearted silver-tongued snake?’

Fenris forced himself to pay attention and observed Wynne’s face intensely.

The mage worried her lip nervously. Standing up for Berran was one thing, supporting Leliana could prove to be impossible. The woman had made a hard case for herself. Isabela, for instance, had set her mind on putting her in a bad light and she suspected Fenris’s opinion would even be worse. Nevertheless she tried. ‘As I said before, I’m positive she meant no harm at all, she must have been misled.’

Isabela snorted contemptuously. ‘Misled. Yeah right. Pull the other one, I bet you’ll hear a bell ringing. One can only speculate about the reward she has been promised to hand over the woman whom she once befriended. She belongs to the Seekers. That says enough. Unreliable bunch of bullies, the whole lot of them.’ Angrily she refilled her glass.

But Wynne persevered in her attempt of advocating the young woman’s case. ‘Just because Leliana travels with the Seekers, doesn’t prove she is one of them.’

‘No, I suppose they used her as bait to win my sister’s trust,’ Carver, who up until now had stayed silent, snapped heatedly. He had hardly recognised the woman from the time in Lothering but, then again, she had been his sisters’ friend, not his. Back in those days she had seemed harmless enough; who would have thought a lay-sister would turn out to be a bard, a spy and a traitor who hazarded Marian’s life to boot.

Wynne straightened her back. ‘I for one am certain both Serah Hawke _and_ Berran have fallen prey to the Seekers. And it may be Leliana has assisted them but she must have been oblivious of the real reason. I simply can’t imagine she would have played this dubious role, had she known the Seekers only hunted us because Berran refused to report his findings. Nevertheless, I have a strong feeling she has her doubts. She could have stopped me when I was on my way to the Tower, she could have delivered me to the Seekers as well. But instead she gave me the chance to escape.’

‘Indeed. And why would she have done that, I wonder?’ Fenris reacted coldly. Only when an almost palpable uncomfortable silence fell and he became aware of the shocked expressions of the others around the table, he realized the gravity of his insinuation. Even Isabela looked taken aback. For a moment he stubbornly wanted to hold on to the hardly concealed accusation. It _was_ suspicious Wynne had been allowed to visit the Circle unhindered, he told himself. But almost immediately he gave in. The woman had saved his life by giving a part of hers, for the Maker’s sake. What _was_ he thinking! ‘Forgive me,’ he said humbly, ‘I didn’t want to imply you are in cahoots with her or the Seekers. I’m, I am not myself.’

‘That’s quite obvious,’ Sigrun murmured.

Delicately Zevran cleared his throat. ‘It could be Leliana was put under pressure,’ he put forward. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time the little songbird got herself into serious trouble.’

‘ _The little songbird_ ,’ Isabela imitated him petulantly. She looked flushed and highly annoyed. ‘It’s sooo bloody obvious you are as blind as Wynne when it comes down to that slippery little weasel with her pretty lying face!’ As to emphasize her livid words, a log in the hearth broke in two with a loud crackle and a rain of sparkles.

Varric’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. Jealous? _Isabela_ actually being _jealous_? He almost wanted to laugh out loud but he controlled himself just in time. This was no proper situation for merriment. Nor to raise the stakes, alas. He settled with a hearty but hidden snigger.

Zevran warded off the pirate’s fury. ‘During all the time I’ve spent with her, I’ve had no reason at all to think she played a double-game. And as an ex-Crow I would certainly have recognised such a game; I’ve played them often enough myself.’

Varric wondered whether the Antivan elf wasn’t aware of the real reason of Isabela’s rage, or brilliantly played the role of innocence. He opted for the latter. Definitely.

‘I agree with Isabela,’ Fenris said with an ominous look and a low gravelly voice. ‘You both have an one-sided image of that – of Leliana. But people hardly ever are what they seem to be, most of them harbour dark secrets. Just because she helped you with your fight against the Archdemon isn’t evidence she is a good person. Nice perhaps, easy to like maybe but not necessarily good. You _are_ blinded and obviously unwilling to admit you were wrong in your opinion because, in that case, you would have to acknowledge your judgement was poor. I didn’t trust her the moment I saw her; she had a strange look in her eyes.’

‘Exactly!’ Isabela cried out triumphantly. She didn’t add, _go Fenris!_ but it was very clear she thought it.

‘So, you confess you have some dark secrets of your own, my mysterious friend,’ Zevran mocked mildly.

Unperturbed Fenris parried his look. ‘More than I care to tell and you want to know.’

Sigrun was growing impatient. ‘Perhaps we’d better quit all these senseless discussions and concentrate on what’s really important?’ she said annoyed. ‘Like where they have taken Marian Hawke and how to tackle the problem of freeing her out of the Seekers’ clutches? Seems much more practical to me.’

Fenris gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You’re completely right,’ he said, ‘this whole argument leads to nothing. But, rest assured, I will kill that red-haired woman the moment I lay my hands upon her. She has too many “formers” attached to her name to be trustworthy anyway.’ He took a large quaff and emptied his glass. Wearily he ruffled his hair, staring at the tabletop, making an attempt at sorting out his thoughts. When he looked up again, the expression in his eyes had changed from concerned to determined. ‘The first question is easily answered,’ he continued smoothly, as if he had washed down his anxiety with that last swallow of the wine. ‘Since they are Seekers, they will bring her to Val Royeaux. The second part is the tricky one, I fear.’

Sigrun couldn’t help admiring how the elf had succeeded in regaining a steady posture after all he had had to endure. After his frantic fit he had bounced back into this calm demeanour. And although, and she didn’t doubt that for a second, his emotions swirled and boiled beneath the surface, he managed to keep them reined in.

‘What do you mean?’ Carver called out passionately. ‘Are you saying you’re giving up before we’ve even started?!’

Fenris let out a small sigh. ‘No Carver, that’s not what I’m saying. Just as you I would like to march onto Val Royeaux, burst through the city’s gates, smash the doors of the Seekers’ Headquarters, slaughter everyone inside, drag Marian out and leave the place as jubilant victors. I just think there’s a possibility, just a little one, mind you, they won’t allow us to have our way and that, instead of bursting through the gates, we will be facing said gates for a long time. On the top of a stake.’

This time Varric couldn’t suppress a roaring fit of laughter. ‘That’s an example of sarcastic humour if I ever heard one!’ He didn’t even crumple under the icy look Fenris shot him, although he backpedalled somewhat. ‘So, what do you suggest we should do?’ he asked while he dabbed at his eyes.

Fenris stared into the fire. He knew he wouldn’t be able to close one eye this coming night but also that he couldn’t force the others to skip their well earned sleep. Especially not Wynne. Absent-mindedly he played with the stem of his now empty glass. ‘At first light tomorrow we’re going to look for clues about which route they have taken. They fled over the lake, that much is clear. Perhaps we could hire some boats, if not we will have to walk.’ He turned to Sigrun. ‘How many ways lead to Orlais?’

‘From this point just one. But not long after Orzammar you can choose to travel further on by land or go to Jader and take a ship to Val Royeaux.’

Fenris tapped pensively with his long slender fingers on the table. ‘What would I do if I had two valuable prisoners,’ he mused out loud. ‘I think stowing them on board a ship would be more practical that dragging them along over land.’

‘And besides that, the sea is a shortcut,’ Sigrun offered helpfully, still in awe.

The elf looked up. ‘We can’t make any plans to free Marian before we have reached Orlais’ capital city. We will have to scout the place, take in the situation on site. Our first goal will be to go to Jader and find a ship that can bring us to Val Royeaux. So I suggest you all go to bed and have a good night’s rest before we start our pursuit.’

‘And what about you?’ asked Carver with a timid voice. ‘You don’t need sleep?’

Fenris lifted a corner of his mouth in a mock smile. ‘You really think I will get any?’

Carver bowed his head. ‘No. But neither will I. Would you mind if I spend the night down here, with you?’

Fenris’s first reaction was to decline the boy’s request but then he apprehended he must feel as lost and devastated as he did. He simply nodded.

‘Well, Junior, it looks like you get the chance to save your sister after all,’ Varric said. He tried to sound cheerful but merely managed artificial joyfulness. Only much later he would be astounded about how Fenris radiated the natural leadership he had always denied having and how easily they had followed him in his decisions.

Carver knew the dwarf was right but he didn’t feel pleased at all, he was just extremely concerned about his sister. A completely new and thus confusing feeling. And at the same time he was grateful Fenris had allowed him to stay with him.

In years to come he would often think back at that night they had passed in silent camaraderie and occasional short but revealing conversations.

-

They had skirted the settlement outside Orzammar, clumsily traipsing through the forests that surrounded it, stumbling over roots and slipping over moist leaves. All the time Leliana had avoided her company and even refused to meet her eyes. But at that time Marian didn’t fret any longer over the bard’s betrayal. After her rage had subsided, she had turned her thoughts to her situation. At first, in the desperate hours after the uneven battle, she had been unsure by whom she was taken captive. But she had come to the one conclusion possible. She thought it extremely ironic she had escaped Hadriana’s wrath, only to be taken by Seekers. She wondered how Fenris would feel. If her reaction to _his_ abduction was any sign, he would have destroyed the Spoiled Princess by now. She almost had to smile at the thought until she remembered how completely distraught and hopelessly powerless she had felt at that time. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone the one she loved. Poor Fenris.

She hadn’t seen Berran, nor as a free man, neither as a fellow-prisoner. She suspected they were carefully being kept apart. She refused to believe he had betrayed her too, that would shatter her world. But deep in her heart she wasn’t so sure.

After they had left Orzammar behind them, she got blindfolded and was pushed into some kind of cart. She could smell the horses and shortly after that feel the rocking on the bumpy road. Every pothole generously added to her discomfort. At this point she knew she was being brought to Val Royeaux, so she couldn’t fathom why her captivators put so much effort in keeping her oblivious. Idiots.

She would try to find a way to escape. An opportunity _must_ present itself. Should she fail, she hoped with all her might Fenris would come in time before she would be “interrogated”. She was certain she wouldn’t survive that. Not if the hateful and heated looks the leader of this pack of Seekers threw at her, was any indication.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for the mess they keep ending up in. It just, well, it just kind of happens all the time.
> 
> I can't emphasize enough how much all you kudos and comments mean to me... Thank you!


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

-

Later, when he tried to clarify Fenris’s behaviour and their own lack of questions and criticism, Varric might have wondered why the elf determinedly had taken the lead and they all had followed him, regardless. Even Wynne.

But to be honest, by then Fenris had already asked himself several times over what had driven him. A combination of fear and love, he had concluded in the end. His one reason for living had been stolen away from him and he had been in some doggedly way determined to take it back. Would he have failed, only emptiness and darkness would have beckoned, in a very bleak future. He had refused to allow that. As he had refused the fall into the black abyss once over. _There would be no black abyss. Never again._

He would find her and save her, whatever the cost, because without her his life made no sense at all. Without her he would have returned to be that hollow shell, only surrounded by hate and spite. Without her he would be deprived of the comforting warmth of trust and being trusted, of a place where he could be his recently found self, a place where he could breathe freely, where he wouldn’t have to be scared of the demons in his head, because he knew she would be there to chase them away. A place of safety. _A place of love._

And so, when the sky turned pink and the morning came, he had strapped his sword on his back, had nudged Carver and called the others and had resolutely marched out to win back the only life he wanted to live with the only woman he would ever love.

_Love_.

That was the keyword.

-

She was ushered aboard a ship in a harbour of a city she didn’t know the name of. It could be Jader but she wasn´t certain. She had hardly been able to catch a glimpse of the docks or of the ship herself, let alone of the city, before she was forced down into a small cabin beneath deck. She stumbled and almost crashed into a wall. She still was bound in chains and although her hands were tied in front of her, it still didn’t help much to move with grace. According to the dim reddish light that shone through the small porthole, it was evening. The dumb sliver of light, however, sufficed to reveal that the cabin held a small bunk. She dragged herself onto it, lay down and closed her eyes. She had tried to figure out some ways to escape but they had all proven to be futile. The last one had earned her a lump on her head when she was struck down the moment she had tried to flee when she was hauled out of the wagon. Although she had tasted the sweet satisfaction of knocking down one of her captors, it had been a rash and desperate try but she had been certain it would be the last opportunity before they would arrive at Val Royeaux and she had been willing to risk anything. And now she paid for it with another throbbing headache. She was convinced that if they´d hit her one more time like that, she would suffer permanent brain damage.

_You should have used your magic – I couldn’t – of course you could – no! they don’t know I’m a mage, technically, and I don’t want them to know – so, you would have surprised them – at what cost – shit, I’m sounding like Anders when he’s having a discussion with Justice! Shut up._

She missed Fenris. She missed him so terribly it hurt. It cost her so much strength to hold on to sanity without his reassuring presence and his comforting arms around her and his warm molten sugar rough velvet voice telling her to calm down. She tried to pretend he was here with her. With her eyes closed she could almost hear him gently berating her with that gravelly arousing voice. She could almost feel his strong and yet soft touch. She could almost _smell_ him. That intense male scent of wild musk with just a tiny hint of sweet jasmine seemed to hang in the air. The only problem was that it brought tears to her eyes and _that_ she desperately wanted to prevent. As much as it strengthened her to visualise him, on the other hand it could break her down in an instant under these circumstances. She took a small shivering breath. _Gods I miss him._

The door opened.

´Marian?’

She stiffened. She recognized that voice. She had learned very fast to distrust and hate that voice. It was the first time during her involuntary voyage it spoke to her and it was, at this moment, the last sound she wanted to hear. The iron shackles rattled when she tried to move away from its poison.

‘Marian, please, I know you’re angry with me -’

_Angry? That’s an extremely gentle phrase to express what I feel for you, you treacherous whore._

‘- but please hear me out.’

Without opening her eyes Hawke snarled, ‘I have nothing to say to you and I certainly don’t want to hear what _you_ have to say to _me_. Go away.’

But, of course, Leliana persisted. She had an order. And had been promised something. The only promise that was given to her and the very one she could pass on. ‘I pledge to you that nothing bad will befall you if you cooperate.’ She sat down on the foot of the bunk.

Hawke’s eyes shot open. ‘Cooperate? With what? You getting your reward? You flying up the stairs to the highest ranks of the Seekers? I trusted you, you bitch. My sister trusted you. _You were her friend!_ If she were still alive she would give you what for.’ She took a little satisfaction at the shocked expression on the other woman’s face. ‘Yes, she died but I doubt if you care one bit about it.’ Perhaps that was a stupid or even juvenile thing to say, but at this moment she would have said and done anything to hurt that so-called lay-sister.

Leliana suppressed a shriek. She took some moments to reclaim her calm demeanour. She didn’t know anything about Bethany’s death. She clearly, and with much affection, remembered the young girl that hung onto her every word when she was telling her all the interesting, exciting and sometimes spicy stories she knew with that clamorous bard-voice. She had been a sweet girl and she had been very fond of her. She really had considered her a dear friend. ‘I didn’t know she died,’ she whispered, affected.

‘No of course not,’ Hawke scoffed, ‘and why should you be bothered. You only think about yourself, about your own happiness and glory. What would you care about some peasant girl in a backwater village you took refuge in to escape from what you really are?’ She lifted her upper body and spat with all the loath she could muster, ‘A vile and low traitor.’ She sat up but leaned her head against the wooden wall and closed her eyes once more. ‘Go away,’ she repeated. She felt exhausted and completely drained, which was the reason why she didn’t react ferociously to Leliana’s next words. At least not immediately.

Hawke’s remarks and the harsh accusation they held, made Leliana bow her head. Frankly, she didn’t want to hear them. If she wasn’t careful they could sink into her very soul, at the risk doubt would stir its ugly head. She couldn’t afford the luxury of doubt. She had to plough on, she had to believe that what she did was the right thing. If she couldn’t rely on her own convictions, on what _could_ she rely? ‘No Marian Hawke,’ she said unwavering, ‘I won’t go away. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your sister. She was a girl with a good heart -’

Marian snorted. A _s if you would know, as if you would care._

‘- and she was sensible. If she could advise you right now, I’m certain she wanted you to come out with the truth. To trust me. I don’t bear you any malice. I want to help you.’

_Help me. Yeah right. Try to pull the other leg._

Marian simmered with anger but didn’t react as yet. She just clenched her fists and whished with all her might she could again call upon and bring out all of her hidden, no, suppressed, suffocated, powers to murder this fucking viper. But, besides she was too exhausted, it would only lead to even more problems. _How does she dare to bring Bethany into this!_ But now, of all times, her powers stayed numb. _Of course, there is no Hadriana to ignite them. Only a little Orlesian off-key singing bird._ She could tap into the Fade and unleash her fury. In fact, she had contemplated to do just that, a few tempting times during her captivity, but again rejected the idea. That trick would only work if she’d be able to take out all of her enemies at one mighty go and that was too great a risk to take. If she failed, and she was certain she would at this moment, she’d blow her cover as the innocent no-mage-at-all girl and give the Seekers even more fuel to grill her in the most gruesome ways imaginable. It would earn her nothing to kill Leliana. Not now and not here.

Only moments later she would try nevertheless. Poisonous words could bring about rash actions.

‘I know you carry some dangerous secrets with you. It would only do you good if you would tell me about them,’ Leliana went on in her most persuasive tone. ‘I’ve been sent here on behalf of the Head of the Seekers himself. We only want to know the truth. We only want to learn the story about your father. If you tell me that story, you will walk free.’

She wasn’t prepared for Hawke’s swift reaction. The woman flew up, shackles or no, had her hands around her neck within a heartbeat, and Leliana was convinced the only reason she didn’t strangle her, was because there wasn’t enough space between her wrists to use all of her strength. Leliana gasped but was too taken aback to handle adequately, or to handle at all. She just froze.

‘Do you really think,’ Hawke hissed vehemently into her ear, ‘that I’m that naive I would fall for your false promises and bloody pledges? You insult me, _lay-sister_ , to even imagine you can win me over with your smooth-talk. Especially since you don’t even hesitate to stoop so low as to use the remembrance of my sister to reach your goal.’ She paused to take a deep breath before she continued. ‘You want to know about my father? Then walk down the path I have taken, meet the Architect and ask _him_ all about it.’ She slumped back against the wall. In the momentum she pushed Leliana with all the force she had left, so that the woman fell off the bed and hit the floor. ‘And that’s everything I have to say to you,’ she spat hoarsely.

Just before the moment Leliana left the cabin, feeling extremely frustrated, Hawke called her back. ‘Tell me one thing. Has Berran betrayed me?’

Leliana hesitated. She had hardly been able to stop Beaugris from torturing the man, using her as good as nonexistent authority as some kind as adversary from Villefranche. Thankfully she had been very determined in her horror and to her surprise the captain had heeded her pleas. The Marquis lived and had only to cope with a mashed up face and several broken ribs. She wasn’t certain if it was wise to pass on that piece of information to Marian Hawke. Then again, it wouldn’t harm anyone to tell the woman Albert Berran was still reliable, that is, reliable to Hawke.

‘Tell me!’

‘No,’ she whispered, ‘he didn’t betray you.’

‘Can I believe at least that’s not another lie?’

‘You can.’

Leliana fled the cabin and went on deck. She sat down behind a roll of thick coiled rope, hoping she would be left alone for a while. But it didn’t take long before Beaugris found her.

‘I guess the interrogation didn’t go the way you planned it?’ he said with an evil cynical smile. ‘Don’t worry, ma petite,’ _(ma petite? That was a new one) ‘_ she will talk soon enough, once we have her delivered at the Headquarters.’

Leliana didn’t answer. She feared by now things had gone desperately wrong and vows had run sour.

-

All the way to Val Royeaux Fenris barely spoke a whole sentence; he just walked ahead, leading the group that trailed after him without any comment. As if they were relieved at least someone had the guts to make the decisions. And after they had put to sea, he silently                 stood at the rail, his face a stony mask. He wasn’t brooding as such, he seemed to wear no expression at all. Varric preferred brooding. You knew what you got with brooding: a lot of silence so heavy you could use it as a paperweight and occasionally a crashing outburst like a thunderstorm, only with words instead of rainfall. And that was all there was to it. But now he didn’t know what to expect. It might as well be the elf would explode at an innocent but in his opinion extremely offending word and start to wave that menacing sword around. Or jump into the sea because he thought he could swim faster than the ship could sail. Varric had given up trying to get as much as a syllable out of him. The elf didn’t even scowl at his attempts; he just looked blank. Although Varric thought he could spot a tempest of burning rage behind that plain expression. It worried him immensely.

At this moment the dwarf sat on a crate with Carver standing beside him. ‘I have the feeling it’s a bad time to be a Seeker,’ the first stated, pensively looking at Fenris.

Carver followed his gaze and smiled briefly. ‘I know I wouldn’t like to be one, when the elf over there marches into their den and begins to hail down wrath upon them.’

Varric grinned. ‘Poetically put, but very true.’ His grin became devilish. ‘And I confess I can’t wait to witness it.’

‘You know,’ Carver said, ‘I never would have thought he cared that much for my sister.’

‘Found that out just now, did you?’

Carver bristled. ‘No, I found it out during that night in Lake Calenhad Docks. I just wonder why I never saw it before.’

‘That is because you only had eyes for Daisy, Junior. In fact, you didn’t pay attention to anyone else. Otherwise I’m sure even you would have noticed.’

Sigrun approached and joined them. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘To say it more mundane than your fellow Grey Warden just before: we’re looking forward to the moment Fenris beats the shit out of a lair of bastards.’

Sigrun chuckled and then observed Fenris as thoughtfully as the other two. ‘He is very quiet, isn’t he, even for him. It’s almost spooky.’

‘He’s building up his fury, no doubt,’ Varric commented, ‘and thinking about a way to conduct it properly. And brooding over his tactics. Though I decided that the term “brooding” doesn’t fit him anymore.’

‘Then again, I’m beginning to suspect where the word “gravely” really comes from,’ Sigrun said. ‘He looks as unforgiving as a tomb.’

Varric cast her a cheeky glance. ‘You should know, Cheeryface, you’re the expert.’

‘Indeed,’ Sigrun responded unperturbed, ‘I do miss having parties in graveyards and sleepovers in crypts. Because that’s pretty much what the Legion does.’

‘I told you before, you’re much too lively to be dead,’ Varric smirked.

The other dwarf lifted an eyebrow, hardly able to stifle a laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. And now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to search for a pint.’

‘I’ll accompany you on your quest,’ Varric said gallantly and he hopped from the chest.

Carver kept on staring at Fenris for a while longer, considering going to him, but in the end he decided to follow the example of the two dwarfs instead.

-

Fenris hadn’t been oblivious to their attention, but he thought it was as well they left him at peace. Actually, he was grateful for it. Under the deceivingly calm surface, his head was a raging turmoil, as Varric already suspected. He stared at the rolling waves and thought about – her. Marian. His Marian. _His_ Marian. Just the fact he nowadays was able to think about her in that way, proved how much he had changed. There had been a time the mere suggestion someone would be _his_ would have made him run his hand through the very person who implied it. Those days “his” meant possession and the sheer thought he would own somebody as Danarius had owned him, like some kind of object, would have made him either furious or nauseous. Probably both. But that was back then.

He remembered the person he was when they had met. His whole existence had been centred on distrust and on the conviction everyone was a potential enemy. Scratch out potential. And then she darted into his life.

He remembered the night they met so vividly as if it had happened only yesterday. The way she stood in the Alienage, oozing self-confidence but without a trace of arrogance. Looking beautiful, despite the fact that the blood of her – his enemies stained her armour and speckled her skin. Her glowing, somewhat sweaty face and the strands of hair that had carelessly escaped her untidy bun. Her sapphire eyes, radiating in the torchlight, had taken his breath away. He remembered how he had been appalled, no, horrified, the moment he found out she was a mage and how furious he had become with her. He still felt ashamed at the remembrance. She had risked her life for him and in return he had almost wanted to kill her. Despite that, she had welcomed him into her circle, and he, despite himself, had agreed, although he had cursed himself for it at first.

He remembered how she had treated him when he had got injured in that DuPuis mansion, with so much care and devotion. And how he had almost chased her away after he had recovered. How scared he had been to let her come close, to let her touch him, to trust her.

Oh yes, he remembered very clearly how he had struggled to give her his trust. And how often he had hurt and insulted her as the fear of overstepping his own boundaries had kicked in. How often he had recoiled. His fear to be touched, even after he had found out _her_ touch never harmed him, had occupied his thoughts for most of the time back then. Touch had equalled punishment, a far cry from trust. She had confused and even scared him. He briefly smiled at the recollection of the night he had dragged her into that alley in Lowtown and pretended to make love to her to ward off a unit of Templars. The same night he found out about her strange magic. Had that been the moment he had surrendered to her? It certainly had changed the way he had regarded her but, he acknowledged, at that crucial moment he had already fallen for her. He had denied it, of course, or at least had tried to, but it had been a lost battle in advance.

He remembered the first encounter with Berran, the disturbing conversation that had been the overture of all this. The reason why he stood here. And how they had ended up on that little beach on the Wounded Coast where she had told him her secret – how she had been raped by those Templars and how, at that same night, her father had been murdered by them. How close he had felt to her in her grief. That same night they had made love for the first time.

And that had definitely changed him, had changed everything. He never once had regretted his decision to stay with her, notwithstanding the utmost panic about his returning and evaporating memories. And she had repaid him with her unshakable love and trust, even when he had left her in his foolish belief he would protect her by doing so. Even after he had run off she had stayed with him and had saved him once more.

No, not even that long ago he couldn’t have believed, or even imagined, there would come someone into his life who would change his view of having a relationship and interacting with someone so drastically. She had managed to turn his whole world upside down. To turn _him_ upside down. And inside out, for that matter. He could hardly recognize the man he had been before he had stumbled into her. By now she meant everything to him. Yes, _his_ Marian. And _he_ was hers. And it had nothing to do with petty possession or filthy slavery. The most important lesson he had learned, was that he could think about her in terms of him being hers and her being his without connecting it to ownership. It had nothing to do with ownership. It had everything to do with love and devotion.

_Love. The keyword was love._

_And it is more dangerous than slavery because the loss is devastating._

He had been more than surprised with himself he had told Carver all about it, that night they had spend awake in the Spoiled Princess together. And even more surprised the boy seemed to understand. He had even valued it.

And now she had been taken away from him. When he closed his eyes he could smell her rosemary scent through the salt tang of the sea. He could hear her warm low voice whisper into his ears. He could feel her tender touch, the warmth of her skin. He would do anything to save her, to get her back. Yes, even march into the Seekers’ den to hail down wrath upon them or beat the shit out of the bastards. He had heard Carver’s and Varric’s words. He would do much more than that if need be; he would do everything it took to have her back.

She had given him worth, no, made him see he _was_ worth. But without her he felt worthless.

_The loss may be more devastating, there is so much more to fight for. The risk is worth everything._

_Trust._

_Love_

-

Hawke had never visited Val Royeaux, let alone been in one of the buildings. Nevertheless, she was pretty sure this wasn’t the Seekers’ Headquarters. For one, the furnishing lacked the harsh severity she associated with the kind of architecture the organization would prefer. Far too much shining marble, thick expensive carpets, elegant sculptured wooden furniture and high windows letting in too much bright sunlight. Far too less grim cold stone, dark gloom, intimidating shackles and, above that, a complete absence of ominous torture utensils.

But second, and probably far more important, there was no way she could picture the impressive, regal woman standing before her in such a bleak environment. She was clad in costly brocade robes and wore a thin veil over her dark hair. Just a few grey streaks and the small wrinkles around her eyes and mouth gave away her age. She was tall and slender and beautiful in a stern way and radiated authority. Her eyes were the most striking of her appearance, though; dark intense looking orbs that seemed to read her every thought and brooked no peremptory.

‘Leave us,’ she addressed the guards on both Hawke’s side. Her low voice sounded warm and gracious but Marian wasn’t fooled. She didn’t doubt for a second that this woman could order her death just with a snap of her fingers. One of the guards seemed to hesitate and the woman commented, ‘I am convinced Marian Hawke won’t make an attempt to kill or even attack me.’

He immediately hurried away, his face flushed.

_Wouldn’t I?  No, I wouldn’t. What’s the point. I’d never get out of here alive._

After the two men had left, the woman turned her attention back to her.

‘I am the Divine Justinia but I’m certain you had guessed that already.’ Marian had. ‘I’m pleased I finally have the chance to meet you. Please, take a seat.’

She indicated a chair, standing in front of an intricate manufactured writing table, while she lowered herself on an impressive fauteuil behind the, undoubtedly priceless, piece of furniture. ‘I have been wishing for this conversation for quite a while.’ She paused for a brief moment. ‘I will come directly to the point, Messere Hawke. I know you are a mage, so don’t offend me by trying to deny it.’

Marian grew suddenly very cold. _They know, Maker’s mercy, they know. How? Has Berran broken under torture? What have they done to him? What will they do to me?_ She tried to stay calm and keep a neutral face but something must have given away her alarm and fear.

The Divine shot her a fleeting smile. ‘You needn’t worry about it, that in itself is not the reason why you are here,’ she continued. ‘I lack the time to meddle with every apostate who is taken captive. You, however, are not the average apostate, are you?’

Marian didn’t respond. She kept staring at the woman, still anticipating the worst.

‘I must confess that I had never heard of your father up until Berran started to show interest in the man. At first we didn’t pay much attention to his findings, and at the moment we found out how important Berran’s discoveries were, it was too late to stop him. By then he was on his way to Denerim – with you. It’s a pity he refused to share his knowledge; it would have saved us a lot of time and trouble if he had.’

‘Then how did you -’ _Andraste’s scorched garters!_ ‘Gascard DuPuis,’ Hawke breathed, appalled. A wave of sickening hatred hit her.

‘Indeed, Berran’s own agent. An untrustworthy person, I admit, but useful.’ The Divine rested her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers. ‘Tell me, Messere Hawke, have you ever contemplated the consequences, had you succeeded in discovering that illustrious mine and breaking your father’s code?’

Hawke’s face was a perfect puzzle. ‘What consequences?’

Divine Justinia let out a small sigh and leaned back. ‘That’s what I figured. You did not think about it. Nor did Berran and apparently neither Malcolm Hawke. What, do you think, will happen if every mage will become like you with the help of amantium and two runes?’

‘Your precious Templars will be out of a job?’ Marian suggested recklessly, flying on the wings of desperation. ‘As will be your Seekers? Your power will dwindle until it doesn’t exist anymore?’ Regardless of the risky situation she found herself in, and the mighty holiness of the woman in front of her, she grew rapidly very angry. Within a hot heartbeat she disregarded her despair. ‘Is _that_ what this is all about? Ordinary lust for power?! So, you’re willing to ignore, or even fight the perfect solution to the so called mage-problem, simply because you’re afraid you will lose your influence?!’ She raised her voice. ‘I find that not only short-sighted but, but also _criminal_!’ The moment she screeched out that last word, it got through to her to whom she was yelling and she abruptly snapped her mouth shut.

The Divine cocked her brows in an amused way which enraged Marian even more. But she pressed her lips and managed to stay silent.

‘I have been warned for this kind of behaviour and I must say, you do your reputation credit. But take care, Messere Hawke, don’t push it too far.’

Marian just glared.

‘Well now. It may come as a surprise to you, but not everything in this world is about power. Much is, loathe as I am to admit it, but not everything.’ She paused for a few heartbeats and studied the young woman on the other side of the extravagant desk. ‘Your “perfect solution”,’ she went on, and Hawke heard the inverted commas neatly fall into place, ‘will likely turn into a disaster within no time. It’s not a solution, it’s a theory and like most theories it has major flaws. Let’s say we accomplish the task of deciphering your father’s secret language and of finding that mine and set his plan into motion. We provide every mage with a ring like yours … and then?’

‘And then we’ll be rid of blood magic and demons,’ Hawke said stubbornly, not comprehending at all what the woman was aiming at. ‘Who can object to that?’ To be honest, she hadn’t given those damn consequences a thought at all; she had been too busy with other troubles.

‘You are very positive and have a heart-warming belief in the good of mankind, but I simply _know_ there will be mages, and I’m afraid rather a lot of them actually, who will not be eager to give up their ability just like that. So, they will cheat by wearing a false ring, for example. And since, according to your scenario, we have dismissed the Templars because they have become no longer necessary, there will be no one left to control them. Imagine what will happen, the damage that can be caused!’

‘Then you keep your treasured Templars! In that case they will at least not roam the streets like a bunch of frustrated unemployed, from their power deprived idiots, together with the disobedient mages gone rogue! Two problems solved, just like that. I still don’t get what all the fuss is about.’

The Divine looked darkly at her. ‘Were it that simple. But that’s not the only danger that will threaten us and by far not the biggest.’ She let drop her next words with emphasis and great gravity. ‘How long, do you think, will it take before the Tevinter Imperium will get wind of it and overpower the rest of Thedas with their magic that suddenly has become exclusive? We will present ourselves on a silver platter and throw ourselves at their mercy. You must agree with me that, by then, a few mages walking about free and going wild, will be the least of our problems.’

Marian’s mouth fell open. She forced it to shut. _Bloody hell! I never thought of that!_

‘Now do you understand, Messere Hawke?’

Marian nodded meekly, too occupied with the impact of the Divine’s words to compose an objection. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. And she did. The mere idea of Magisters ruling Thedas – again – was an outright nightmare. Her shoulders drooped. Why hadn’t her father come up with this? _Because he was too scared you would become a greater menace than all the Magisters combined to give it a thought._ But she’d rather bit off her tongue than say that out loud in the presence of the Divine. Even Fenris had never uttered the opportunity, but probably he was too industriously trying to get everything even slightly related to Tevinter and Magisters out of his system.

‘I have let you brought here to make it very clear to you how extremely high the risks of your father’s presumably well-intended plan are.’

Hope arose and Hawke heaved her head. ‘Does that mean I can go?’

Divine Justinia didn’t answer right away. ‘No,’ she said eventually, ‘you will stay in the custody of the Seekers until I have decided what to do with you. But rest assured that on my personal orders you will be treated well.’

Hope vanished.

And with reason, she would find out soon enough.

-

The pain was unbearable. She never had known it was possible to endure such excruciating agony and still live. She had screamed until her voice was shredded and she could only produce some kind of pitiful hoarse groaning. And yet she kept going on. As did the pain that became even more insufferable, even though she had not thought that could be real. Her whole body burned like it had been set on fire. At the start of the inflicted cruelties, she had tried to impress the faces of the men who did this to her upon her memory, so she could kill them in the most brutal way possible, once she got the chance.

But soon it became clear that that chance was very bleak, if non-existent.

By now she couldn’t remember them anymore, didn’t even care to. The whole world had ceased to exist, but for the unspeakable hurt that kept going on.

The only thing she wanted was for the pain to go away. She couldn’t suffer it any longer.

The only thing she wanted was to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always pictured Fenris as someone who'd take the lead, if there wasn't a Hawke to follow any longer. Especially in dire circumstances. After all, he had had to make a lot of, undoubtedly, difficult decisions during his time on the run.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

-

Deep in thought Divine Justinia ambled unhurriedly from her study to her personal chambers. She wanted to take her time because she had much to ponder. And, she had to confess, she wanted to buy time. She couldn’t deny that Marian Hawke had made quite an impression. The young woman hadn’t seemed much unsettled by the situation she found herself in, or otherwise she managed to hide it well. Or perhaps she simply refused to admit how serious the circumstances were. Anyhow, Serah Hawke had confronted her with an awkward problem: what to do with her? She recognised she could have made that decision a long while ago, the moment she gave Villefranche carte blanche, to be precise. But at that distant day, this moment seemed to be a long time ahead. And now it had overtaken her. The convenient future had made place for the complex present. The young woman wasn’t anonymous any longer. And to make it worse, that same young woman had been sincere in her quest to find the truth about her father. She never had given a thought to tilting the balance of power. Of giving the Tevinter Imperium the upper hand.

And Marian Hawke, and all she presented, was not the only issue that troubled her mind. She had yet to meet with another problem, one of a more personal nature, although he was the one who had set this whole nightmare into motion which wasn’t personal at all. She groaned inwardly but immediately steeled herself.

Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she entered her private living room where Berran was waiting for her, on her strict orders. For a while she stood silent, just taking him in. He didn’t meet her gaze but stared straight ahead, his shoulders a little slumped. She was shocked. Not only by the encounter itself – like Baron Villefranche already had assumed, she indeed still harboured warm feelings for him –  but even more by the way he looked. All the words that had formed in her head dissolved; instead a seething rage rose that she only with enormous effort managed to fight down. She would have Villefranche’s hide for this. He should have his subordinates in hand. If she couldn’t rely on that, she couldn’t rely on anything she ordered him. Despite her anger, her composed expression betrayed nothing of her struggle while she tried to regain her inner calm.

‘Who has done that to you?’ she finally asked in a cool tone, referring to his face that still bore the evidence of the severe beat-up he had underwent on the voyage from Jader to Val Royeaux. Her voice sounded low, soft and a little husky, as usual. Only someone who knew her very well could recognize her anger. Berran happened to be one of the very few but at the moment he wished to ignore it.

‘I don’t think that’s of any importance,’ he replied stiffly. His ribs still ached fiercely but he didn’t show it, except for his slightly drooped shoulders. It hurt too badly to straighten them properly.

She might be upset by this encounter, he was even more in turmoil, notwithstanding the fact he had had plenty of time to, at least, try to be prepared. But, _nom de Dieu!,_ whatever Tevinter mages or  raging demons would materialize to haul him down to whatever depths of the Void they could take him, he wouldn’t give evidence of his suffering, let alone of the strong feelings she stirred up. They shared some strained looks. _Love can only go that far_. She had made that very clear some years ago when her position was at stake because of their love-affair. He had understood. What could he have said? She was the right hand of Andraste herself. He was but...

‘I think it is,’ she countered, shredding he musings, ‘but all right, it can wait. As you wish. Sit down.’

And again he was mesmerised. She always did that to him.  But he clenched his jaw and controlled himself. This was not only about him, there were more people involved. He had to stay vigilant. He had to protect them. _Ask about Hawke, you idiot! She has put her trust into you, you can’t let her down._ But for the moment he stayed silent and followed Justinia with his eyes. He took a seat as she had ordered. _Better not to annoy her right now. She is tense. Wait for a better moment._

She walked over to a side table and poured wine out of a decanter into two crystal glasses. She used the time to let the eventual last traces of her nervous tension evaporate. She handed him one glass before she also took a seat in one of the comfortable easy-chairs.

‘Why did you do it, Albert? Why did you put yourself above the law?’

_She used your given name. No, ignore it. It can be a trap. Stay straight. You know how sharp she is._ He didn’t even have to think about the answer. ‘You’ve met the woman. She’s very – charismatic.’

The Divine smiled lopsidedly. ‘Undoubtedly one of her many surprising traits of character. But it is not an honest answer to my question.’

He took a slow sip from his wine. She had ordered for the best, he couldn’t help noticing. That was a good sign; he drew courage out of it. ‘I didn’t put myself above the law. I suppose I got ... caught up with the events, like being swept away by a strong and wild torrent. It was never my intention to ignore the rules.’ _Marian Hawke. Indeed a woman to watch. A woman to arm oneself against. A woman to treasure. A woman worth fighting for. Like you are._

Intensely Divine Justinia looked at him. ‘I can’t imagine it was that hard to send a message you left for Kirkwall. And after that went to Denerim. You should have -’

He interrupted her with a light gesture of his hand and she was awestruck that he, in fact, had the nerve to silence her. Or rather that she _let_ him silence her.

‘I didn’t find anything of import in Kirkwall to inform the Headquarters about,’ Berran stated in a firm way that brooked no argument.

Nevertheless the Divine said assertively, ‘Yes you did. A very intriguing mage.’

Berran let out a deep sigh and immediately regretted it when an explosion of pain hit his ribcage. With some difficulty he uttered, ‘That knowledge was worthless in itself. The _intriguing mage_ could hardly explain how she wielded her magic, let alone why. And besides that, we were after information about her father and she knew even less about him than we did. I was following the only thin thread I had discovered. And it led to Denerim. Soon after that things became – complicated.’

He withstood her granite stare without a blink.

‘I don’t think you’re lying, Albert, but you’re not speaking the truth either. I do believe it was never your intention to ignore the rules. I, however, also believe you didn’t want to inform anyone about what you were tracing. Since I know with mere certainty you rushed off to Kirkwall and Denerim, tracked through half of Ferelden in fact, because you wanted to return to Val Royeaux in triumph. Because you wanted to impress _me_. I’m only afraid you bit off more than you could chew.’

Berran had a hard time not to flinch. Isabela’s words, spoken with wicked glee, echoed in his head. _‘And be welcomed in as a hero; I wonder what you thought would be your reward. A woman’s favour, I presume..?’_ Bloody pirate. C _ette sacrée salope!_

He couldn’t deny it but didn’t want to admit it out loud either. His vulnerability was exposed enough as it was. So he changed the topic. ‘What are you planning to do with her?’

It struck the Divine he asked about Hawke’s fate instead of his. She hesitated. ‘I haven’t decided yet but I think it is unwise to let her go just like that. She can be a great danger.’

He looked at her with those inscrutable black eyes. ‘They will come for her, you know. Her lover won’t rest until he has dragged her out of the Seekers’ claws and the others will follow him regardless, without a question.’

She raised her brow. ‘Is that a threat?’

He shot her a faint smile. ‘No. That’s a certainty.’

-

The moment they disembarked, Fenris’s demeanour changed. Immediately he became attentive and surveyed the quay with squinted eyes, paying attention to whatever sign that implied something was out of key, staying in the bustling activities of cargo being unloaded and people running to and fro. Without looking at her he stopped Isabela, who tried to saunter into the open, by grabbing her arm. ‘Not so hasty,’ he said in a low voice, ‘I want to know if it is safe first.’

‘What?’ she reacted a little irritably. ‘You think we will be pounced upon the moment we set foot on the quay?’ She was glad to be off a ship she didn’t command and wanted to be away from the vessel as soon as possible. It must be said, this time she had behaved a lot better than on their voyage from Kirkwall to Denerim. The difference, and it was a big difference, was that she now had her own ship waiting for her in Amaranthine. She had left her first mate in charge and simply refused to believe the man would double-cross her by running off with the _Chubby Mermaid_. If you couldn’t rely on the pirate code, on what _could_ you rely? And she had bloody well made pirates out of them.

‘Do you think they are waiting for us? This soon?’ Wynne asked concerned.

‘I have no doubt they will be expecting us,’ Fenris replied, still inspecting the quay, ‘and neither that they have already our descriptions. The Seekers travelled ahead of us and have had every opportunity to report to their superiors. I don’t see anyone suspicious, however, and we know the Seekers and Templars don’t excel in subtlety; they would have made their boisterous move by now. But it could be they sent Guards, probably under cover, to look out for us and they are far more competent in acting secretly.’ He looked around once more. ‘No, up until now I indeed don’t see or can sense anyone suspicious, but for the time being we have to stay alert and keep our heads down. We’ll wait till dark before we enter the city. In the meantime we will stay at the docks and provide ourselves with a new outfit.’

‘What?!’ Isabela protested with a shrill voice. ‘You mean you want me to wear _pants_?!’

Fenris grimaced. ‘I didn’t say that, although it would be wise. I’m convinced that by now the whole of Val Royeaux know about the scantily clad pirate and it won’t be your charming blue bandana that’s the talk of the town.’

‘I’m not the only one who sticks out,’ Isabela said defiantly.

‘No. That’s why I am going to purchase a heavy cloak with a deep hood. It will suffice to hide the markings in the dark. And I advice you, Sigrun, to do the same.’

‘Maybe we can buy some stage make-up, while we’re at it,’ Sigrun responded dryly. She was nonchalantly leaning against a crate, her arms folded. ‘I wager that works better to cover the tattoos than some piece of cloth.’

‘What about a bucket of whitewash?’ Varric suggested.

‘Yes, I always wanted to play the clown,’ the other dwarf smirked. ‘And before _you_ are going to play Captain Obvious, I give you that perhaps the moniker “Cheeryface” wasn’t that badly chosen.’

On Fenris’s signal they left the quay and vanished into the maze of slums every harbour district seemed to consist of. They didn’t have to search long before they found a pawnshop that provided them with decent disguises. Shortly after that they found a grubby tavern where they waited for nightfall. Isabela spent a great deal of that time with sulking about the long dress she was forced to wear. The others just wondered how she managed to look sultry and to radiate sex appeal in a shapeless garment that covered her from neck to toe. She was of a completely different opinion.

‘If you even dare as much as hint at this disaster in one of your stories, I’ll kill Bianca,’ she hissed ferociously at Varric, while waggling a finger in his face. The dwarf protectively clutched his crossbow close to his chest. She was hidden in a hessian sack because Fenris had pointed out that she also was a feature that could easily be recognised. Reluctantly, and only after a steely glance of the elf, he had given in and now he regretted that indulgence.

Zevran graciously stepped in. ‘You know, cara mia,’ he said sweetly, laying a soothing hand on the pirate’s arm, ‘I think the dress suits you. It gives you some ... je ne sais quoi, to stay in the Orlesian character; some particular charm, if you prefer. Especially by how you make the fabric swirl when you sway your hips. And it leaves so much more to the imagination.’

‘Listen to Honey-boy,’ Varric urgently insisted, ‘although I can’t possibly see there is anything left to ignite _his_ imagination.’

The pirate queen relaxed somewhat. In fact she started to chuckle. ‘You know what, Varric, write what you will, as long as you buy me a glass of rum. I’m sure we’ll have a good laugh about it, once this is all over.’

Varric wasn’t sure about that but he was willing to admit it if it would save the love of his life.

‘Good,’ Fenris interfered, ‘now you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, perhaps you can settle your mind on the mental map of this city. You’re the only one of us who has ever visited Val Royeaux. Any chance you know where to find the Seekers’ Headquarters?’

Isabela shrugged. ‘Afraid I can’t help you there, handsome. Yes I’ve been here before, but I ventured only into the city to break into the common prison to free my first mate. Never took the time to amble through the place to admire the architecture. Unless they threw Hawke into the same prison, I can’t give you directions.’

Fenris put an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. The tiniest of smiles played around his lips. ‘I never pictured you as the type of person who would admire building structures, unless it held some kind of brothel, of course. On the whole you’re more the kind that goes for the structure of the human body. Ah well, I’m sure we will be able to find the Headquarters on our own account. I figure we just have to go for the centre of the city; the most important buildings always tend to be there.’

‘And what then?’ Carver put in a word. ‘We just walk in? Ask for a guided tour?’

Fenris sat up and rubbed his face. ‘I can’t decide anything before I have seen the place.’

‘Are we certain they hold Hawke in the Seekers’ Headquarters?’ Isabela said, reaching for her glass of dubious rum. ‘Why not the Royal Palace? Or that of the Divine?’

‘The Seekers were the ones that took her captive. Of course they have taken her to their own dungeons,’ Fenris reacted, trying to keep his patience.

‘I agree with Fenris,’ Carver stated. ‘Why would they give up their prize?’ He didn’t add what he, and undoubtedly also the rest of them, thought. That his sister almost certainly would be tortured or at least treated badly. It took simply one look at the tense elf to know he would lose his composed posture in a heartbeat and go on a rampage on just a wrong word.

‘I second Junior,’ Varric said. ‘It goes against all laws of logic that the Seekers put so much effort in capturing Hawke, only to hand her over to the Empress or the Divine.’ Just as Carver he deemed it wiser not to mention what the Seekers could do to her.

Fenris flexed his fingers. ‘We will get her out. This very night,’ he said in a low gravely tone. The expression on his face was as hard as a rock. Neither the dwarf nor the brother needed to vent their fears to express their anxiety. So they stayed quiet.

They decided Titia and Orana would stay behind, awaiting the outcome of the enterprise. The little jumpy elf would only be a hindrance in their endeavour but it was too unsafe to leave her alone in this foul waterhole. Besides that, it was painfully obvious Fenris still didn’t trust the Tevinter mage and had only allowed her to tag along because they didn’t know what else to do with her. He certainly didn’t want her around during their risky undertaking.

Titia had not the nerve to protest.

-

Leliana was beyond herself with fear. She had just had a very unpleasant conversation with Villefranche, who only now had deigned to receive her and to speak to her. He had demanded to know how they had failed to take the Fereldan First Enchanter captive and hesitated not for a moment to put blame on her. It was a major setback in her hopeful prospect to climb the ranks of the organisation. Nevertheless, or maybe because of it, she had asked about the whereabouts and the fate of Marian Hawke. What did she have to lose, after all? Villefranche had looked haughtily at her without answering.

‘Get out,’ he had said, ‘and report to your captain.’

And finally, doubt _had_ stirred its ugly head. As a matter of fact, doubt had done that for a few sleepless distressing days. It was better to say she was _beyond_ doubt by now and the only ugly thing that pestered her was the truth. She had been used. She had been promised a lot of things, including a promotion. But she had also been assured that Marian Hawke and Wynne wouldn’t get harmed. She didn’t believe that any longer. It would have been very convenient if she had been able to let the both of them tell her what was going on with Malcolm Hawke’s legacy, what he had discovered or set into motion or whatever the man had done. But she had come to the conclusion that Marian Hawke would have been killed if she had supplied Villefranche with that precious knowledge. She was as good as certain Wynne would have been spared, if only to avoid problems with Ferelden, but it was a cold comfort. She _was_ a traitor, even if her intentions had been good. It gnawed at her.

So now she was cautiously tiptoeing through the eerie building, trying to keep out of sight, which wasn’t such a great feat for an experienced rogue as she was. She had searched the dungeons but discovered nothing; that is to say, not Hawke. She wondered if, in spite of everything, Villefranche had kept his promise not to harm her but at the same time she highly doubted that after his harsh words. After her suspicions had drowned her hopes. There was only one way to find out. So she sneaked stealthily through the sparsely lit corridors. She hadn’t found any sign of where Marian Hawke possibly could be held prisoner yet and she had already reached the rarely used small guest accommodation.

She was about to give up when she heard a soft whimper and shortly after that, she made a horrific discovery.

-

Half hidden behind an ornamental fountain they stood looking at the gloomy bulk of the Seekers Headquarters. Standing out against the dusky sky, lit by many burning lanterns, the structure looked as forbidding as an impregnable fortress.

‘And how do you figure we get in there?’ Varric said, addressing Fenris. ‘The blighted thing resembles more a stronghold than an office. No mouse could slip in there without being noticed. Or do you intend to disguise us as washerwomen and servants this time?’

Fenris let his eyes wander over the outside of the building. He took in the walls, constructed out of hewn rock and large bricks, the battlements that gave the building that special castle look and the high set windows. He especially paid attention to the solid gate. Two armed men stood on guard in the light of a few flickering torches. But they wore the armour of the Templars, they were no Seekers. Those probably thought too high of themselves to perform such a boring chore. Somewhere behind the uninviting walls was the woman he loved, the woman he was willing to give his life for. Maker knew what ordeals she was going through, what they were doing to her this very moment. He pressed his lips and forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. He had to keep his mind together and stay calm; she wouldn’t benefit from his despair.

His attention went back to the gate and the two sentries. They were _young_ Templars. Inexperienced Templars. Guarding the Headquarters would be part of their training, he assumed. He smiled thinly.

‘Isabela?’

‘Honeycomb?’

‘Do you think you can take care of those men guarding the gate?’ The way he said the words and the expression on his face made very clear what he meant with “take care of”.

The pirate cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘In this thing?’ She directed the baggy dress. ‘Not without some adjustments.’

‘You can make as many adjustments as you wish, as long as you distract them. Zevran, I know you can be a shadow if you want to. You follow Isabela and finish those Templars off while she has their attention.’

‘And then what?’ objected Carver. ‘You simply bash in those heavy doors?’

‘You forget the elf knows one hell of a trick,’ Varric remarked, smiling broadly. ‘I know what he’s planning; he will phase through that wood.’

But Fenris shook his head. ‘I don’t think stumbling into a hallway that might be crawling with armed Seekers is such a good idea.’ He paused and let his eyes float again over the walls. ‘No. I will climb up and enter through that window over there.’

A short silence fell. ‘Are you mad?’ Carver sputtered in shock. ‘You can’t climb a wall in full armour!’

‘You are right, of course I can’t,’ Fenris agreed. He had already got rid of his cloak and gauntlets and was unbuckling his breastplate. He put the items on the floor and handed a stunned Carver his broadsword.

‘It’s sheer impossible to go up there, with or without armour!’ Desperately Carver tried to keep the man, elf, he knew his sister loved like mad, from a deed that could only lead to his death. He met a steel expression. And Carver, just like Varric, didn’t’ have the heart to take his protest any further, in case he would have to face the elf’s wrath.

‘No it’s not. It’s all rock and rough masonry. It won’t be that difficult.’ Fenris secured his daggers between his belt.

‘But you don’t know what will await you behind that window,’ Sigrun objected, ‘let alone in the rest of the building.’ She admired the elf’s courage but thought it was a hopeless operation. She recognized she should be the last person to object to a suicide mission but for some reason it didn’t sit well with her that Fenris would squander his life just like that, not while there were other options to be pondered. Besides that, he had never pledged allegiance to the Legion of the Dead.

‘At least I will be able to see through a windowpane. Easier than looking through wood.’

‘And when you reach the ground-floor, you will cope with all those Seekers you expect crawling the main hall on your own..? Without your armour and your sword?’ Wynne sounded concerned.

‘In that case my phasing abilities will come in handy,’ Fenris replied grimly, ‘and besides that, I still have my daggers. You worry too much. I will, however, have to act fast; we don’t know how long it takes before someone inside notices their Templar guards are down, and before that happens, I must have opened the gate.’ He spoke as if he was talking about a leisurely stroll in the park. And, continuing as easy as if he was halfway that stroll and suddenly remembered something worthwhile to mention, he said to Isabela and Zevran, ‘When you have conquered those Templars, stay in the shadows of the gate and wait for my move.’

Zevran just nodded. He understood and saw no need to spill useless words.

Isabela slit the front of her dress, literally giving air to her breasts. ‘That’s better,’ she said satisfied. Apparently she and the Antivan elf were the only ones who weren’t troubled by Fenris’s daring plan.

Carver wanted to utter a new objection but Fenris lifted his hand, cutting him off. ‘Not another word,’ he said with so much authority Carver’s mouth automatically snapped shot. ‘We are losing precious time.’ He turned to Isabela. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Of course, my sweet,’ the pirate chortled, beforehand enjoying what she was about to cause.

‘Then let’s set this into motion.’

Isabela sashayed, hips swinging in a way Fenris silently called her war-path strut, in the direction of her victims-to-be. They all watched captivated and in awe how she tilted her head, unfolded her most charming smile, heaved her ample bosom and batted her eyelashes in that special way that wavered on the brink of exaggeration but just didn’t pass it. Even in the dim light it was easy to witness her act and how the poor young Templars fell for it. What they didn’t see, were the fast, stealthy movements of Zevran. They only realized he had sprung into action the moment the guards went down without any sound but a low thud.

‘Gracious me,’ Wynne murmured, ‘I knew he could perform a trick or two, but this  ...’

Varric nudged her gently. ‘He’s not the only one with surprising skills.’

Their attention shifted and the next minutes they stared open-mouthed at Fenris who nimbly climbed the high wall.

‘Not that impossible, as it seems,’ Sigrun grinned.

‘How was I supposed to know he has squirrels among his ancestors,’ Carver grumbled.

The four of them simultaneously held their breath when Fenris hoisted himself up on the window-sill, and blew out with relief when he managed to maintain his balance.

-

Fenris waited a few moments for his heartbeat to pick up its normal pace. He peeked through the window but behind the glass everything was dark. He drew one of his daggers and wrenched the blade between the wood of the window-frame until he felt some lock give way with a soft screeching sound. Again he waited but when nothing happened, he opened the window and slipped in. Immediately he lowered himself and crouched on the floor, counting under his breath. He heard footsteps but they were muffled, as if coming from the other side of a wall. Slowly his eyes got used to the darkness. He seemed to be in some kind of storage room. Furniture was piled up against one wall; he could see the outlines of a large cupboard. Cautiously he started to move to the door and almost stumbled over a bucket, carelessly left on the middle of the floor. He stifled a curse but without further obstacles he reached the door. He pushed it ajar and risked a quick look. He saw a corridor, faintly alight with candles sitting in holders attached to the walls. On his right side someone just disappeared around a corner, on his left side a staircase led to lower levels.

The moment he stepped into the corridor he felt something was amiss, although for the first few seconds he couldn’t put his finger on what precisely. It certainly wasn’t a sudden outburst of enemy activity; no Seeker was in sight. He pushed his body against the door, the dagger still in his hand, ready to lash out at anyone who dared to attack him. And then he realized the uneasy feeling was radiating out of his own head. In his own head. There was that soft twitch that he reluctantly had come to recognize, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. That weird splinter, or derivative or whatever it was, of that Fade creature he couldn’t get rid of, that one way or another was still trying to protect him. But that also was connected to Marian. Because he was connected to her. He hardly understood it but was willing to accept that last part. He closed his eyes and concentrated. _Where are you_. His eyes flew open when the twitch became a jerk. She _was_ here and she was in agony. He almost panicked but managed to react cool, calm and collected. Although cool was perhaps an overstatement. And probably the other terms were too. He was burning with anxiety. He wanted to go to her, save her, but recognized he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed the others. So, he indeed managed to stay cool, calm and collected. That is to say, he darted to the staircase as fast as he could, willing to murder anyone who had the guts to keep him away from his goal.

On the landing he met his first opponent. He made short work of him, or, as it turned to be, her. His dagger met her throat even before she could give out a cry. The second landing gave him more trouble. Two Seekers were lounging against the railing, deep in conversation, but they shot to attention the moment he jumped down. The first one went down with a fist in his chest, crushing his heart, the other one managed to scream out a warning. Fenris kicked away his legs and sent him reeling over the parapet to meet his end on the unyielding stone tiles of the level-floor, but regrettably he had already alarmed his brothers in arms. They came swarming out of several rooms that apparently were some kind of barracks, but Fenris was already descending the last staircase. While he was rushing to the doors, he noticed in some small calm part of his mind the heavy steel bolt that kept the door closed.

Just before the Seekers jumped upon him he managed to slit the bolt aside and to open the gate. Almost at the same time he got run over by a very eager Isabela, followed closely by Zevran. The next moment the first assailant got shot by a happily singing crossbow bolt. While he tried to scramble onto his feet, an outburst of kinetic energy passed him, just missing his head.

‘I apologize, Serah Fenris,’ Wynne said, striding determinedly along, ‘but I thought you could use all the assist after the imaginable you just accomplished.’ She let out another wave of strong magic and smiled wickedly when two other Seekers went down with a harsh cry. Even Elissa would have been astonished to see her like this.

But Wynne felt the same Fenris already had, the moment she entered the premises. And she was as resolute as he. _Hawke was suffering and had to be saved._

Carver hauled the elf up on his feet and pushed his sword in his hands, but Fenris shook him off.

‘I can feel her,’ he growled, ‘upstairs. No time to lose. She is in great danger.’

No one questioned him. He led the way and they followed, Wynne on his heels, sensing very disturbing pinpricks that made her hackles rise.

But none of them were prepared for what they would find.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly, I was completely shocked when I first came across the Divine in DAI. I couldn't, and still can't, believe that a woman who used to wield that much power would act like some sweet old wrinkled granny. (In fact my first thought was: What on earth have they done to my Justinia??!)
> 
> I hope you still like this story. If so, please let me know!


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

-

Leliana hurried as fast as was physically possible, while at the same time not being caught, to the Holy Palace. She couldn’t take the risk of being spotted and halted; it would take too much time. Too much precious time. And she certainly couldn’t afford being arrested at the risk of being deprived of any chance to reach her goal. She wasn’t sure, at this point, if that goal wouldn’t have her clapped in irons or executed on the spot before she’d be able to convince her to intervene, but she had to try. Everything had gone wrong – had _been_ wrong from the start, and she desperately wanted to save what she could.

Without any effort she climbed over the high wall, which surrounded the vast gardens stretching between the Holy Palace and the cathedral, skidded through the deserted aforesaid gardens and slipped into the palace, using one of the servant entrances.

Even at this time of night people were at work in the cavern-like kitchen. Probably baking pies, at the smell of it, or industrially busy with cleaning up the mess of last night, at the look of it. Leliana didn’t care what they were doing, as long as they didn’t became aware of her presence. She grabbed an empty wicker basket, sitting on one of the large tables, and crossed the room in a confident stride as if she belonged here. It was a simple trick and it almost always worked. As it did right now. No one took notice of her. Once outside the kitchen, she dropped the basket and followed her way to a small stairway that led to the labyrinth of narrow passages only used by servants. And secret lovers, she assumed. But finally she reached one of the shiny marble hallways of the “official” part of the palace. Impatiently she had to wait for a couple of guards to pass by, and after they were out of sight, she ran swiftly up the grand staircase, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. She hid behind a statue and paused to make sure no one was nearby.

She had only been in the palace once, but she had studied the ground plan thoroughly. As she had studied those of the Royal Palace and the Seekers’ Headquarters. You never knew when that would come in handy. And now it did; the bard education paid off. Without hesitation she sneaked through the corridors until she arrived at the personal chambers of the Divine. The door was guarded, of course it was. And the two burly Templars didn’t look as if they would be fooled by any excuse a flushed, distressed and dishevelled looking girl would come up with. If she had had time, she would have thought of something better and definitely less risky but she didn’t have time. And so she jumped to the door, screaming like a pig being butchered. As she had anticipated, or at least hoped, the two Templars were too startled to react for a few short but vital moments. She darted through the double doors, slammed them shut in the bewildered faces of the guards, and raced through the antechamber to yet another room she knew was the private study of the Divine.

And, thankfully, there was the woman herself, still reading papers or whatever she was doing at this hour of night. She rose from her chair with an alarmed look on her face.

‘Forgive me, your Holiness,’ Leliana panted, cutting her off beforehand, ‘but I need your assistance. Urgently. It’s a matter of life and death. And of honour.’ She held her breath when behind her she heard the doors crash open and heavy running footsteps coming near.

_If she doesn’t heed me now, everything is lost..._

-

The already gloomy hallway of the Seekers’ Headquarters had turned into a grisly battleground. Or rather into a battleground just after the battle was over. The floor was littered with corpses and slippery with blood and gore. But the fight wasn’t over yet, far by it; it only had moved to the first floor. The Seekers seemed to pop up out of every door and their resistance was persistent and ferocious. Fenris, however, was more persistently ferocious than all of them together. He hadn’t taken the time to don the armour Sigrun had been considerate enough to pick up and carry with her, once the entrance of the Headquarters had swung wide open. But, driven by fear, anxiety and immense rage, he felt almost invulnerable, even without its protection. Or perhaps it was better to say he didn’t pay any notice to whatever dangers surrounded him. Moreover, and far more important, to compensate the lack of armour, he felt the familiar weight of his trusted broadsword Carver had pushed into in his hands, while he wielded the weapon with frenzied velocity. It was all he needed to leave a ghastly track of dead and maimed bodies. He was hardly aware of the presence of his comrades while he moved and struck like blue lighting, fast and deadly, all his markings ablaze, making him look like a lethal beacon.

Varric had given up shouting that he, bloody hell, should at least strap on his breastplate. Instead the dwarf settled with shooting down every assailant that came too close to the elf’s unprotected back, and at the same time tried not to get being hit himself. He was glad they had left Titia and Orana in the tavern. Just like Fenris he still didn’t trust the Tevinter mage completely, and right now he needed all of his attention to keep the elf and himself alive without being also forced to keep an eye on the dubious woman. And they really couldn’t have left Orana alone in that dive in the harbour district. The poor little elf would have been assaulted in to time. But if they had taken her with them, she would have become frantic in this carnage. Probably she would have had herself killed. And that would have been a pity. He might trust Titia as far as he could throw her, the little elven girl was a whole different matter. It would be a sin if she would end her just won freedom in a grisly bloodbath like this.

Like in the cave where they had taken down Hadriana’s army, Wynne stood next to him. The difference was the determined, almost inhuman icy look in her eyes. It shot shivers down his spine every time he dared to take a peek at her demeanour and, more importantly, her remote expression. He didn’t know her like this. The compassionate warmth she usually radiated as some kind of second, or even first nature, was gone and replaced by a cold determination to kill everyone who stood in her path. Almost like the elf. He didn’t dare to comment on it. He assumed that she, just like Fenris, could feel something the rest of them didn’t; that something very bad had befallen Hawke. Something that went far beyond an injury or bad treatment. He decided to let it go for now. Because, as pointed out before, his first goal was to prevent himself and the elf Hawke loved so much keeping from falling.

They managed to push the horde of their enemies up the stairs to the second floor, where they met with even more resistance in a wide hall where two doors opened unto. Fenris still formed the centre of the fight, causing certain death to the enemies. It was more difficult to follow the swift movements of the three rogues – insofar a member of the Legion of the Dead could be called a rogue at all; the term sounded too frivolous, although perhaps not in her case – than to see the elf himself spin and twist with unearthly speed and grim willpower, leaving nothing but havoc in his wake.

And then, out of the sudden, one of the doors flew open and a voice boomed, ‘Stop this madness right now!’

_Well,_ Varric thought, _that’s not going to happen. Not as long as the elf still draws breath or you are all dead._ He let loose another volley, hoping he wouldn’t run out of bolts too soon.

But the remaining Seekers chose for a third option; they stumbled through the way to survival, given so generously to them by whoever had opened that entrance. A string of muffled curses and orders could be heard before the door was shut. Varric didn’t think this was the end of it. He had been into too many battles and skirmishes to believe they finished just like that; but at least it gave them time to catch their breath, to regroup and consider their next move.

It took just one look at the elf to realise they won’t get that opportunity.

-

Fenris felt her presence tugging at his – whatever it was. Mind? Soul? Feelings? That spirit inside of him? It didn’t matter. Not now. The unexpected sudden end of the fight didn’t give him any peace of mind; it just gave him the chance to go looking for her unhindered by idiots. He blindly followed the way to where he simply knew she was until he reached the spot. He turned to the others, still alive, still unscathed and still with him. He didn’t take the time to marvel about that miracle. ‘Keep watch,’ he said curtly, ‘they will come back.’ The only sign he was near to exhaustion, be it from the furious battle or from the all consuming anguish about Marian – _undoubtedly that last one,_ Varric opted for the latter option – was that his markings no longer where alight.

The only one who dared to react to his words was Wynne. ‘She may need heeling...’

‘If so I will call you.’

None of them had ever seen him this tense, not even during the journey to Val Royeaux, when he had seemed to be the deceivingly calm eye of storm, ready to explode at the opportune moment. And now that moment had presented itself. Or, rather, he had made that moment happen. That same moment they had not only witnessed, but also underwent, the wrath Carver and Varric had been so looking forward to. It had been quite a rough ride, considering what had occurred the past hour or so.

Fenris’s voice sounded low and at the same time strained as a wound up string, and now no one was willing to waylay him or even utter an objection. With one violent kick he busted the door and entered the room, leaving them behind.

Carver, against better judgement, tried to follow him but Wynne stayed him by grabbing his arm.

‘She’s my sister,’ he objected.

‘You never showed much witness of that bond in the past, sweetheart,’ Isabela commented bluntly, ‘don’t start now. Let Fenris have his way. You will get your chance of proclaiming your brotherly love, believe me.’

_If there is any opportunity left,_ Varric couldn’t help thinking while Fenris rushed into the room.

-

The chamber was surprisingly luxuriously furnished but Fenris had no eye for the costly surrounding. He only had eye for the still figure, lying in the middle of a four-poster bed, covered with blankets so that just her face was visible in the dim light of the alabaster lamps. With a few long paces he closed the distance to the bed. He dropped his bloodied sword and lowered himself to sit beside her. Marian didn’t stir and for a moment it seemed she was in a deep sleep, that everything was alright, but he could feel all too well it was far from that. He noticed she was breathing fast and shallow.

‘Marian,’ he whispered, ‘can you hear me?’ He laid a hand upon her face. To his dismay, though not surprised, he felt she was burning with fever and her skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. ‘Marian!’ He sounded more urgent this time. Her eyes cracked open. She stared puzzled at him for a moment but then her expression changed into outright panic.

‘No more,’ she croaked, ‘please.’

He swallowed with difficulty. With extreme willpower he pushed back his rage and worries. ‘It’s me, my love, it’s Fenris,’ he said as gentle as he could, like speaking to a frightened child. He pulled back the covers to see if she was hurt; or better, to see how much she was hurt. To his surprise and fury he found she was naked under the sheets. They hadn’t even bother to clothe her after what they – _had she been raped??_ His first impulse was to gather her into his arms but the moment he touched her body, she uttered a hoarse cry with a broken voice, as if she had shred it too many times too often, and she recoiled violently as if he caused her immeasurable pain. She tried to disappear into the thick feather pillow supporting her head, her face a mask of agony and fear.

His breath hitched. He had known beforehand she was in a bad shape but to see her like this was more than disturbing. It shocked him beyond measure. She didn’t even seem to recognise him. _What have they done to you?!_

And then he saw the markings on her arms.

They were fiery red and crude, nothing like the elegant vines that swirled around his body, and yet they bore an unsettling similarity. It probably took his experience to make the connection and so he knew within an instant what was done to her. His heart stopped pounding and almost immediately after picked up a racing rhythm. No! This couldn’t be true!

 His thoughts swirled through his mind as an untamed wild current. _She has been marked, mutilated. She has lost her memory. Lyrium. Some kind of blighted lyrium. She doesn’t know who she is, who I am. She doesn’t know what we have together, what we are together. She doesn’t know she is my heart and soul. My existence. I have lost her. I should have reacted faster. I should never have left her alone. My fault. My entire fault._

‘Marian.’ It came out as a desperate sob. He rested his forehead on the mattress. He felt defeated. He was too late; he hadn’t come in time to rescue her. She was lost, to him and to herself. She would have no memory of her former life, wouldn’t even be able to recall her own name. She would know nothing of the love they shared. This was even worse than the nightmares he had about his former master. This was a devastating blow. He had rather that the monster had come for him. Danarius he could have handled; him he could have slain, with the help of his friends. He would at least have had a chance to kill him. What chance did he have, _had_ he have, standing against this evil? An evil that sprouted outside of Tevinter? Even worse, an evil that had sprouted amongst the very ones who were supposed to root it out?

He had fought the battle and had lost. He felt completely devastated.

-

A faint sound disturbed the eerie silence that hung in the corridor. The sound of marching feet, determined for their goal.

The guardians at the door looked uneasily at each other.

‘Do you think they have made a decision?’ Carver eventually volunteered, keeping an eye on the lower level where the Seekers had taken refuge. ‘That they’ll try an attack?’

They all thought about the number of those very Seekers, hidden behind the door leading to the room they had taken refuge in. A too vast number. If they put themselves together and muster the courage to attack them once again, it could mean the end of them all.

Resolutely Varric cocked Bianca and shouldered her. ‘If so, ’he said with a hard expression, ‘I hope they’ll be prepared to put up a good fight.’ Defiantly he looked around at the bleak faces. ‘I for one am not going down without a fight.’

Wynne took up her staff and aimed the weapon at the end of corridor, as if training it at the enemy that was supposed to turn up at any moment. ‘I’m all with you,’ she said harshly. And again she gave Varric the shivers.

Sigrun flicked her daggers between her fingers and smiled nastily. Among her intimidating dark facial marks it looked devastating. ‘I say, we will let them work for it,’ she said grimly. And suddenly everyone present understood why Dust Town dwarfs willingly took the tattoos. They had to, to intimidate the others enough to survive. They certainly intimidated _them_ , right now.

Zevran smiled. The smile had the expression of death to come. He was another one who knew a thing or two about the downside of life. Enough to know what it took to stay alive and enough to know how much it would take to avoid death. Elves knew a lot, too much, about that as well. ‘That’s the spirit. We will wipe the Seekers out, right here and now.’

‘Oh dear, ’Isabella sighed, ‘not even a nasty Antivan swearword at this weighty moment? You know we will die here, and not even as notorious pirates. We’ll die anonymously. What a waste.’

Without even turning his head Zevran said, ‘They will sing songs about us for at least a century. Who could ask for more?’

‘I could,’ Isabela complained. ‘The best thing about those songs, is hearing _not_ your name declaimed in remembrance to your glorious downfall. You should hear them singing about other people and ridicule their stupid bravery.’

Carver unsheathed his sword with an ominous hiss. ‘Whether you like it or not, right now _I_ will be stupidly brave if they decide to come for us.’

Isabela rolled her eyes in annoyance. ‘Ach, the little brother still has big sister issues. Well, have it your way.’

She drew her daggers and stood ready, for whatever that nasty sound would reveal or turn out to be. Because, of course, she agreed with Zevran. And even with Carver. And totally with Varric and Wynne and Sigrun who had already their weapons out and were ready to fight.

_What a way to go_ , she thought, and had to smile nevertheless. Some pride was etched in that smile. She was a pirate, after all.

-

In the midst of Fenris’s desperate thoughts,  Marian’s voice sounded again, almost inaudible as a sigh in a storm.

‘Fenris? Is that you?’

He heaved his head and met her troubled eyes, still full of pain. But now they were alight with a glint of hope. ‘Yes, love, it’s me.’ He wanted to cry, to roar to give wind to his unimaginable gratitude she still knew who he was. Who _she_ was _._ He only managed a soft throatily moan.

She reached for him and at the same time shrank back.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered, ‘I can’t bare the touch. It hurts too much.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

Fenris stared at her, feeling utterly frustrated and incompetent. He wanted so much to console her, to help her, but the only thing he could do was to speak out the words that lingered in his mind. ’What have they done to you?!’ He remembered what he had said to her after she had told him about her unheard of and completely unbelievable way she used her magic. ‘ _Have you considered_ this _is the reason the Seekers are after you?’_ And, _‘I bet they would do anything,_ everything _, to get such a mage in their hands. And I fear they would turn you inside out, literally if need be, to find out how you do it.’_ What _had_ they done to her??

The answer came in a soft mumble. ‘Red lyrium. They cut me and filled the wounds with red lyrium. They thought that was the way to find out the source of my magic.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Now I know what you’ve gone through. It’s no wonder you lost your memory.’ Her face twisted again when the pain took over. She bit her lip and tried to stifle a cry.

His heart broke. And then tremendous fury hit him. He wanted to go back into that hall and kill every person still alive behind the door the cowards had taken shelter. He wanted to find the one responsible for this and flay him very slowly, to let him feel every moment of agony he had cost her. They had used the methods of the Tevinter Magisters on her. They had used the technique Danarius had tortured him with. _Seekers_ had done this, the ones that were supposed to hunt down dangerous apostate mages where the Templars failed. To hunt down the notorious blood mages, to hunt down every sick person who put this kind of evil deed into practice.

His markings flew ablaze with his aggravated fury. He stretched out a hand to her and at the same time held back. _No touch._ He recalled all too well his first memory when he had woke up after what Danarius had done to him. A world of agony had surrounded him and he would have killed the innocent slave who had been ordered to put a soothing balm on his injuries back then, if he had had the strength. He tried to calm down. The last thing she needed right now were his ignited scars.

But to his astonishment she took in a ragged breath and slowly started to move towards him. At the same time he felt the by now far too familiar quietly pushes and pulls in his head, telling him what to do. Or rather let him feel it. Right now, without discussion, he decided to follow its heed. His hand hovered hesitantly over one of her arms, just a fraction of an inch above one of the gruesome marks. They looked at each other.

Marian closed her eyes. Again she reached out for him but with trust this time. Without a word or second thought he laid his hand upon her arm. He felt the scorching heat of the red lyrium that marred her skin, felt its malevolence trying to find a way to corrode her mind and then the –

If a feeling could have a colour he would have sworn a whirl of bright light-blue filled his mind and passed to her through his fingers. Soothing, extinguishing the fire and pain in her body, blotting out in an instant the influence of the malicious lyrium trying to get her in its grip. With a desperate and at the same time relieved whimper she threw herself into his arms and he was all too happy to pull her close.

He never heard the commotion behind his back until the room was filled with people. Some anxious, some afraid, some mystified.

But very soon they all got overwhelmed by one very angry elf.

-

He only got aware of the crowd when a powerful voice sounded, silencing the uneasy murmur that just now got through to him. The voice was filled with authority but it didn’t do anything to ease his mind. On the contrary.

‘What is the meaning of this?’

Probably the owner of the voice tried to calm down all the anxiety but it worked like a red rag to a bull on Fenris. He laid Marian gently down and reluctantly let go of her; at the same time he felt almost physically how the pain again took possession of her body. That alone was enough to enrage him. He turned and slowly got up, facing with hardly curbed contempt the woman who had the nerve to interrupt the, perhaps upsetting, but nevertheless intense and tender moments with his lover.

‘How dare you enter this room,’ he growled, ‘get out. All of you.’

‘Uhm, elf,’ Varric said nervously, ‘before you’re going to kill anyone...’ After some contemplation he changed that into, ‘To kill some more, this is her Holiness herself. The Divine Justinia,’ he explained hurriedly as if any explanation was necessarily.

Fenris didn’t move or change his demeanour. He glowered menacingly at the tall woman. ‘So you’re the one who allows her Seekers to use the disgusting methods of the Tevinter Magisters upon innocent victims. It says something about the sickening zealousness of the Chantry that they lower themselves to blood magic. And you have the arrogance to call yourself the _Divine_?’ That last word was uttered with so much spite and loath it made everyone present cringe. Varric groaned and hoped with all his might they would survive this blunt challenge.

Divine Justinia blinked confused, if not bewildered. Needless to say she wasn’t used to this kind of behaviour, but as usual she didn’t show any of her emotions. ‘Could you please clarify your accusation,’ she said coolly, outwardly unperturbed. A loose thought shot through her head. _The two of them indeed make a nice matching couple. Neither of them bowing to authority, neither of them afraid to speak their mind, no matter the risk._

Fenris pointed at Marian. ‘Look for yourself how your minions have treated her with the most low and obnoxious form of magic by infusing her with lyrium, red lyrium no less. And stop acting as if you didn’t know about this. But, frankly, I don’t care whether you did or not, you’re still responsible for their actions.’

Varric’s heart plummeted into his stomach. They did _what_?! Did that mean she, just like the elf, had lost her memory? That she suffered like he had? He stood petrified and felt nauseous. He heard Wynne gasp and then saw her rushing to the bed. In the middle of all the confusion no one tried to stop her.

Divine Justinia stared in awe and disbelief at the furious elf. She noticed his strange markings, shining blue with what she easily could define as activated lyrium and, realized he knew what he was talking about. _Blood magic?_ _In_ _this city? Under my nose?_ Without turning her head she called out, ‘Villefranche!’

 From her position close to the door, Leliana watched the arrogant baron walk into the room with a confident stride to stand before the Divine. She didn’t know what or how to feel. No triumph, that was for sure. Relief at most, relief that Divine Justinia had listened to her, after her bold and boisterous barging into her study, and had taken her seriously, had even acted immediately. She had called for her bodyguards and had headed for the Seekers’ Headquarters, commanding her to come with her. All of them had stood gawking, utterly upset, when they came across the massacre in the hall, the stairs and the upper levels. The Divine had had her guards open the doors at the second floor. Leliana wasn’t certain what had shocked her more: the barbaric bloodshed or the cowering of the surviving Seekers, who had to admit they had been bested by just seven men and women. Villefranche, as was expected, hadn’t bowed his head or even batted an eyelid. He hadn’t even deigned to give reasons for the debacle. The Divine hadn’t asked for it – yet. She had just ordered with one word for them all to follow her and shortly after that they had stumbled upon the instigators of the mayhem. They were guarding the door to the chamber in which Hawke lay suffering from her wounds inflicted upon her, despite the promise she would not be hurt. They seemed ready to sell their lives dearly, but relaxed somewhat when the Divine made herself known and told them she would make no rash decisions. And now Leliana was shocked even more. Red lyrium? Blood magic? This was even worse than she had feared.

Divine Justinia glared at Villefranche. Her composed posture was gone but at this moment she no longer wanted to pretend indifference or serenity. ‘Explain yourself,’ she demanded.

Villefranche straitened his shoulders and defiantly stuck out his chin. ‘You recognized yourself how dangerous the woman is. I think it was no more than my duty to find out how her magic works, to prevent she – ‘

He came no further.

Faster than the speed of a viper Fenris had made his move. One of his hands closed as a vice around the Baron’s neck, the other hovered over his chest. ‘ _You_ did this to her!’ he spat venomously.

‘Fenris, no!’ Simultaneously Varric and Zevran jumped upon the elf to stop him from killing the man. As much as he thought to stand in his right, they both were convinced it was a bad idea to murder the person, who was apparently the Head of the Seekers, before the very eyes of the Divine.

‘I know how much you want to do this but please don’t take the law into your own hands,’ Varric pleaded, fervently hanging on to Fenris’s arm, ‘let justice run its course.’

‘Justice!’ the elf snarled but, nevertheless, he let go of Villefranche. The baron fell involuntarily at the Divine’s feet, struggling for breath. Meanwhile Fenris indicated the bed. ‘Is _that_ justice? What kind of justice can I expect in a city that allows the abduction and torture of people who have done nothing wrong?’ His voice dripped with scorn and disdain.

Divine Justinia prodded the Baron with the toe of her slipper. A very bloodied slipper she realized but paid no attention to it. ‘Stand up,’ she bit.

Villefranche scrambled onto his feet, much less confident by now.

‘I may have recognised how dangerous the _situation_ was, not Marian Hawke herself,’ she continued with a voice that could be used to freeze water. ‘And I definitely remembered I told you not to harm her. You defied my orders and, as the elf was so good as to point out, your actions reflect on me. You disgraced yourself and by doing so, also disgraced me. As a matter of fact, you disgraced the Seekers, the Chantry and this whole city. That is unforgivable.’ She addressed the captain of her bodyguards. ‘Take him to my palace and lock him up.’

Villefranche started to protest. ‘Your Holiness, I only did what I thought was best –‘

The Divine lashed out and slapped him square in the face with such ferocity it made Varric’s eyes water. ‘Don’t “your Holiness” me,’ she hissed. She turned to the remaining Seekers who crumbled under her look. ‘The lot of you, clean up this building. I will yet have to determine what to do with you.’

The look she rested a moment later on Fenris was considerably softer. ‘I understand why you wanted to kill him. To be honest, part of me wishes you had. It would have spared me a lot of trouble.’ She gave him a fleeting smile Fenris didn’t reciprocate.

‘I can only hope _justice_ will be done,’ he answered coldly. ‘And if you will excuse me now, I will try to relieve her pain as much as I can.’ He turned and went back to Hawke.

She heard him urgently whisper to Wynne.

Ah yes, Wynne. The mage that hadn’t been taken prisoner on a Junior Seeker’s whim, but now had turned up in Val Royeaux anyway, and totally out of her own free will. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Speaking of things getting out of hand ... How was she ever going to defend the decision that she let the ones responsible for slaughtering more than half of the Seekers go unpunished? She gave herself a mental shake. Who would bother about it, other than the Seekers themselves? It wasn’t like they were the most treasured organisation in Thedas. Besides that, they would be the first ones to keep this embarrassing affair a secret. The question was: s _hould_ she let the impudent but brave assailants walk free? And what to do with Marian Hawke? _Tomorrow_ , she promised herself _, tomorrow I will think about it. Now I have more important issues to deal with._ She got interrupted by the dwarf with the impressive crossbow on his back, the one that had helped to prevent Fenris finishing off Villefranche.

‘If I may ask, ma’am, how did you know about – this?’ He made a wide gesture that presumably included the whole building and every spilled drop of blood in it.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leliana slip away and after Fenris’s display of almost deadly fury, she couldn’t blame her. She forced a smile. ‘Later, Ser dwarf.’ She raised her voice. ‘Messere Wynne, is there something that can be done for Marian Hawke?’ She noticed Fenris had taken the young woman into his arms, his markings now a faint blue.

The Ferelden First Enchanter looked up with a tired and concerned expression.

‘The assistance of another healer would be welcome,’ she said. She worried her lip. ‘We have to get the red lyrium out of her body as soon as possible before –‘ She cast a quick glance at Fenris.

‘Before what?’ Varric shot into attention and involuntarily took a step towards the bed.

‘Before it devours her,’ Wynne said rather lamely. She rubbed her face. ‘This red lyrium, it’s far more aggressive than the white variant. White lyrium replenishes mana in the system of mages and it helps non-mages to recognize and fight magic. That’s why Templars use it, even though,’ she smiled briefly and without humour, ‘they get addicted to it. It affects the body, it slowly but inevitable consumes it.’ Again she looked to the Tevinter elf. ‘And before you ask, for some reason I cannot fathom, Fenris is resistant to the side-effects. _Red_ lyrium, on the other hand, influences the mind as well as the body. Even dwarfs aren’t immune to it. You told me what happened to your brother in the Deep Roads, Varric, after he had taken that idol into his hands. I admit, one must be receptive to be manipulated and turn into a madman. In other words, it takes a weak mind to succumb as fast as your brother did, I’m sorry to say.’

‘It comes as no surprise,’ Varric replied grimly. ‘But what about Hawke?’

Wynne let out a heavy sigh that promised nothing good. ‘Hawke didn’t just hold red lyrium in her hands, she has it infused into her. But she fights back. Ferociously, I might add. I don’t know if the amantium ring and the runes help her, or work against her. What I do know, is that Fenris’s own lyrium with the addition of the ... piece of the spirit, to call it such, soothe her pain and slow the process.’

Varric realized she had forgone the polite “Serahs”. Another bad sign. ‘What process?’

This time Wynne looked him straight in the eyes. ‘If we don’t get that toxic red lyrium out of her very fast, she will die.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I wrote this before playing DAI, I realise that my interpretation of the evil red lyrium is at best a wild guess. I hope it doesn't influence the story too much.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

-

‘I told you they would come for her.’ Although his words could be interpreted as self-satisfied, Berran sounded carefully neutral. There was no trace of smugness in his voice.

‘And you were right.’ Divine Justinia leaned against the small table holding liquor bottles and glasses while she poured herself a strong drink. He noticed her hand was slightly trembling. He heard the bottle tinkle against the crystal glass. As long as he knew her, he hadn’t seen her this upset. Not even when she had made it clear their relationship was over, that she had to break it for the common good. She hadn’t mention the word “blackmail” back then, but he knew damn well it had played a nasty part. ‘But you never told me they would start a bloodbath.’

Berran was lounging against the mantelpiece of the large fireplace. She had called for him the moment she had reached her private sitting room. He hadn’t exactly been imprisoned, he had just been ordered to stay in the apartment that had been appointed to him. He had used the time by bathing and nursing his injuries with some high quality ointments and had not a moment expected she would require his presence any further this evening. But apparently she needed him right here and now. He had been highly surprised when the order came but now, after he had heard what she had stumbled upon in the Seekers Headquarters and saw the state she was in, he began to understand. She needed company, she needed a sounding-board. Although, he had to admit, he still didn’t comprehend why she had specifically demanded _his_ presence. He observed silently she hadn’t even taken the time to change; he noticed that the hem of her brocade robes was stained with blood. Her elegant slippers were ruined. She looked deadly pale. He wondered what she had witnessed, how bad it had been. Very bad, he decided, if it brought her off balance like this. ‘I suppose they hadn’t count on that much resistance,’ he remarked cautiously.

She took a deep quivering breath and shook her head as if she was trying to chase the awful images away. ‘Never in my life have I seen so many corpses, so much slaughter. Maker! All that blood, the mutilations, the entrails -’ Her voice trailed off and she emptied her glass in one big gulp. She reached for the bottle again but hesitated halfway. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t offer you a drink.’

Yes. Definitely and totally off balance. He left the mantelpiece and walked over to her. ‘Let me,’ he said and escorted her to a chair where he gently sat her down. He filled two glasses with Orlesian cognac and handed her one. ‘Perhaps I haven’t explained clearly enough the elf would literally kill everyone in his path to save her.’

Justinia stared into the distance. She remembered all too well the tender way that same elf had held Marian Hawke, the furious burning eyes when he had stood up to address her and how he almost had murdered Villefranche. ‘His love has cost a lot of lives today,’ she murmured. Again she drank greedily. Above all other disturbing and confusing feelings, she urgently wanted to drown the pang of jealousy, nagging at the back of her head.

‘Perhaps I should call one of your servants to run you a bath...’ Berran began but she cut him short with a gesture of her hand.

‘No. Not yet. Later. You haven’t heard the worst part.’

He rested his hand on the back of the chair, close to her shoulder, and wondered. What could possibly be worse than a massacre in the Seekers’ Headquarters?

‘When I gave permission to let you and Marian Hawke, and the Fereldan First Enchanter by the way, track down and take captive, I ordered Villefranche not to harm either of you. The first evidence I came across he had interpreted my intensions in a very different way, was your battered appearance. And, oh yes, you _are_ going to tell me what happened. Also later.’

He was painfully aware of his face that still looked like a colourful picture of a mad painter and of his ribs that ached every time he took a breath. Nevertheless he was unwilling to explain what had happened on that ship. It wouldn’t help the situation and, he had to admit grudgingly, it had damaged his male pride enough as it was. No need to pay more attention to it.

Oblivious of his thoughts the Divine went on, ‘But then I found out what he had done to Marian Hawke.’ She swallowed. ‘I had never heard of the technique of infusing a person with lyrium, but evidently Villefranche had, and that elf of yours is the living proof it exists.’

Berran grew cold in an instant. What the hell had that bastard done? When she told him he had to strain himself violently not to curse out loud and to run off to end that deranged sick son of a bitch himself.

‘Can you imagine it?’ he heard Justinia almost shout out through his pounding ears. ‘Not only has he defied my explicit orders but he dabbled in the methods of the Tevinter Imperium! In blood magic!’ In a sudden flare of anger she tossed her glass across the room and it shattered against the opposite wall. She buried her face in her hands. ‘That poor girl,’ he heard her whisper.

A horrible thought came up. ‘Is she..?’

‘No. I sent my best healer to assist Wynne but then again, I don’t know if she is going to make it.’

He brought her another cognac, more or less to occupy himself with something somewhat useful other than banging his head against a wall or kill someone.

‘What am I going to do with them, Berran?’

‘I say you let them walk free,’ he replied grimly. ‘The real crime is committed by the Seekers; Hawke’s lover and her friends just tried to safe her from blood magic.’ He almost choked on the words. He could hardly comprehend it. He knew Villefranche was ruthless but he never would have considered for a second he would go this far. And to think he had suspected Malcolm Hawke of using blood magic to protect his daughter. Alright, the man had done probably something far worse but – he got interrupted by her voice.

The Divine leaned back into the chair. ‘I will consider it. That is, after you will have convinced me she presents no threat to the world.’

‘I was afraid about that myself at the start of this whole ordeal but I can assure you she won’t.’

Once more she interrupted him with a simple gesture. ‘That will be another “later”. For now, Albert, since I can think of no one else, you will serve as acting Head of the Seekers. That’s the first reason why I called you here,’

_And the second?_ he couldn’t help thinking. In his fantasy it included a hot bath and a soft double bed. He forced himself back to his anger about what happened to Hawke and the very disturbing words Justinia just had uttered. He had to concentrate.

‘You can start with cleaning up the mess that dangerous idiot has left behind. Not literally of course; I have already set the surviving other idiots to that ghastly task. But you know what I mean. It won’t be a nice job; the whole organisation lies in shambles. But I’m certain you can cope with it.’

He just stared at her.

For the first time that evening a shadow of a smile appeared on her face. ‘You are surprised? You shouldn’t be. Despite all you have done, you are still the only one I can trust in this snake pit. Just don’t disappoint me again. And now you can call for a servant to run that bath. I expect you back later this night to give me your report. And I want to be informed about Marian Hawke’s condition the very moment you have news.’

When he stepped away from the chair to do her bidding, she grabbed his hand. They shared an intense look before he brought her knuckles to his lips and softly kissed them.

‘Your whish, ma’am, is my command.’

She couldn’t help notice the badly hidden little smile, or the shiver that ran down her spine.

-

Carver was pacing edgily, tracking some serious groove into the thick carpet. He was beyond himself with anxiety and feelings of guilt. Ever so often he threw a glance at the closed door behind which his sister lay in agony, facing death. He remembered remorsefully all the times he had shouted at her, had been jealous of her, had treated her like an enemy. What a damned petty fool he had been, just being focused on himself, never giving her trepidations and worries a second thought. And now it was well possible, more than possible, he would never be able to tell her that and apologize for it. He got more hot and bothered by the minute.

They had moved to the Holy palace, accompanied, or probably guarded, by the Divine’s small army and were now housed in the guest quarters. Fenris had wrapped Hawke in a thin sheet and had carried her all the way without uttering a single word but with such a wooden expression on his face you could have manufactured a table with at least six matching chairs out of it. He had disappeared into a bedroom together with Wynne.

The Divine had left for her personal chambers but she had sent a healer, as promised. A mage. Of course she was a mage; after all, the best healers were mages. The only mages who were allowed in Orlais and in the most parts of Thedas. The only ones who could perform their skill in the open without the risk of getting arrested on the spot. Carver thought rather sourly at how his father had been accepted as a magic healer, although he had acted more as a physician. Just like Marian. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood. The woman had arrived, entered the bedroom, had left like she had been sent on an errant and returned with a filled basket. Servants had fluttered around the rest of the group, preparing rooms, providing for food and drinks. It had been pretty much the same bustling scene as in the Royal Palace in Denerim when they had brought in the injured elf. Not that Carver had been present, of course, but he had heard the story.

They were gathered in some kind of common room, much like the foyer of a cosy country-inn, though considerably costlier. Country-inns usually didn’t consist of marble floors, sculptured furniture made of rare woods and expensive carpets. The room was furnished with comfortable seats and sofa’s, low side-tables, bookcases and even a cupboard holding board games and decks of cards, in case the guests wanted to entertain themselves while they were waiting for – whatever it was they were waiting for. In this case the guests, if they even could be called such, were only waiting for some information, any information, but preferably the good sort. They didn’t even think about playing a game of wicked grace.

‘Andraste’s burning butt cheeks, stop it Junior, you’re making me seasick just watching you,’ Varric grumbled.

Carver halted in mid-stride and glared angrily at the dwarf. ‘How can you stay so calm?!’ he exclaimed agitated. ‘Marian may be dying this very moment and you just sit there and drink your ale! You’re infuriating!’

‘What would you have me done?’ the dwarf shot back calmly. ‘Run around in panic, wailing at the skies, bruise my knees and pray to the Maker or the Ancestors? The only thing we _can_ do is sit and wait and hope. Might as well do that while drinking a pint.’

‘You’re impossible, you insufferable, cold-hearted –‘

Sigrun resolutely grabbed his arm and dragged him to a chair where she pushed him down. He wanted to fight her off but she was surprisingly strong. Her face was hard to read but her determined sounding voice made her intentions clear. ‘You may be some brother-in-arms to me, but I swear I’ll smack you harder than the Divine did that creepy Head of the Seekers if you go on ranting like that, you moron. You’re helping no one with that attitude, the least of all your sister. We all know how concerned you are because we feel the same. You just make it worse. Now shut up and wait like the rest of us.’

Overwhelmed and overruled Carver did as she commanded. He even accepted a glass of brandy. He coiled up in himself.

Sigrun nodded at Varric and retook her place on the couch next to him. And waited. He returned a grateful glance and took a sip of his ale. And also waited.

-

‘I’m afraid this is going to be ugly,’ Wynne sighed. She looked upon the still body marred by the nasty fiery slashes. They looked as if the malicious red lyrium was dripping out of them. It was more than disturbing; she could sense the evil substance trying to get at her own mind every time she just hovered over it. The spirit in her head shifted restlessly, keeping the worst at bay. She hardly dared to think about what it would do to Hawke. Distracted she mumbled, ‘Thankfully they only carved her arms and legs but –‘

‘ _Thankfully_?’ Fenris interrupted her with a reproachful growl. It dragged her back to attention. He was still holding Hawke in his arms. She had lost her conscience and the fever had grown worse. Her breath had gone so shallow that it seemed she was hardly breathing at all.

‘I’m sorry, the word was ill chosen. I only meant there would have been so much more red lyrium to remove if they had gone any further. This will be difficult enough as it is.’

Fenris looked alarmed from her to the other healer, whose name hadn’t got through to him, and back. He didn’t like Wynne’s last remark. ‘You’re both mages with healing powers.’ He sounded defiant and uncertain at the same time. 

‘We can’t use magic,’ Wynne tried to explain wearily, ‘not even healing magic; it would only react with the red lyrium and make its effect worse.’ She rubbed the back of her neck. She was feeling tense; she was painfully aware of the nasty stuff pulling at her own magic, never mind how much the spirit was trying to help her to neutralize its influence. ‘We will have to cut it out of her and hope no permanent damage is done.’ She met his distraught look and sighed again, anticipating his reaction. ‘That means we have to turn to sharp knives and literally do a dirty job.’

The elf’s hackles rose. ‘What?’ he spat in disgust. Despair tried to surface but with all his might he fought it back. ‘I won’t have it, there must be another way! She responded to my lyrium well enough!’ He pulled Marian close in a very defensive way and clenched his jaw. ‘The white kind must be able to beat the red one,’ he added sullenly.

Wynne closed her eyes for a moment. ‘As I told you, Fenris, it only slows the process. You can’t heal her, no matter how much you wish you could. No matter how much _I_ wish you could. Look at her! Even your markings combined with my spirit, together with the spark you carry, couldn’t prevent she’s worse off than she was half an hour before.’

He bowed his head in defeat and trailed his hand over Marian’s heated, desecrated skin. He didn’t want to believe Wynne but deep down knew she was right. He bit back tears and made a decision. ‘Then get that loathsome material out of her as fast as you can,’ he said softly. He held on to the body of the woman he loved as fast as he could. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered for no one to hear. Wynne caught his words nevertheless and cringed. She loathed what had to be done as much as he did, but there was no other way. She had to continue, she had no choice if she really wanted to save the young woman.

Wynne addressed the other healer. ‘I trust you brought the poppy juice as I requested, Odine?’ The woman just showed her the small bottle. ‘Then lay her down on the bed, Fenris, and hold her head.’

Reluctantly he did what she requested. With care the two women poured the liquid through Hawke’s lips, cautious not to let her choke. ‘So far so good,’ Wynne grimaced. ‘Fenris, sit next to her and hold her hand. Or better even, touch her injuries. You were right on one thing, she does react to you and I don’t even know if that has to do with your lyrium, our spirit or the deep love you share. Probably a combination of all that. You soothe her pain, that’s the most important thing. Perhaps, together with the poppy juice, that will be enough. But be prepared.’

None of them were prepared for the heartbreaking guttural whimper coming out of her when Wynne and Odine started their appalling task. It made them all wince.

But the moment Fenris clasped his hand around her wrist and bowed his head to touch hers, she fell quiet. He softly wiped the hair away that stuck to her sweaty face and kept on murmuring to her in Tevene, Qunlat, the common tongue and even some stray Orlesian expressions and for some reason or another she seemed to respond to that. Or at least to his voice. It didn’t matter what he said. Although, through everything she had to do to save her, Wynne noticed that when he told her he loved her and couldn’t live without her, she seemed to relax more. Strangely enough it didn’t seem to matter in what language he uttered those words. She seemed to recognize their significance anyhow.

Fenris was completely worn out when they finally finished. It had been devastating to see her suffer, to see her – being butchered. He had no other word for it. A disturbing amount of blood drenched towels had been piled on the floor. Several knives had been used; the women had to grab for new ones when the others went blunt. And if that wasn’t enough, it had brought up horrible memories from that day Danarius had carved the lyrium into his flesh. The agony that it had brought. It was hardly a solace the two mages were reversing the process. He could simply feel the pain was the same. Besides that, the red lyrium seemed to fight back, as if it was some kind of liquid demon that didn’t even thought about yielding. He had had to use all his determination, after a night without sleep but full of battle, through all his fear and angst to soothe her. He had to put his anguish and dread forcefully aside to keep telling her she was strong and would survive. That she _had_ to survive because otherwise his life was forfeit. Because his life was but an empty shell without her. That he loved her and she meant everything to him, that she was his life.

It was Odine who finally put a hand upon his shoulder when it was done. He was hardly aware she was there. Wynne had almost collapsed by that time. At one point she almost lost the fight against the evil calling from the red lyrium and wondered how Odine managed to keep, at least outwardly, unaffected. Her youth, she decided. And the fact she wasn’t supposed to be dead already, but she had cast that thought aside the moment it popped up.

‘Now we can use magic,’ the Orlesian mage whispered. She threw a glance at the Fereldan First Enchanter who heroically tried to stay awake but obviously wasn’t able to perform any spell at all. Odine had led her to a sofa and covered her with a blanket. ‘I can,’ she added with a reluctant smile. ‘Healing magic,’ she explained when she met Fenris’s worried, blurred gaze. ‘I think it is safe now. The red lyrium has been removed, as far as possible. We will have to await the effect till she wakes up. The healing magic is for closing her wounds.’

And after that the world became full of blue light, warmth and comfort. Odine’s soft murmured words whirled around him and he only just then became aware of how exhausted he was. She spun some kind of safety net around him in which he could bounce without the fear of smashing into pieces. At the last moment he heaved his head. Whatever he had been through and whatever he had witnessed, he didn’t trust magic. He only trusted Marian’s magic which was no magic at all, until she got really infuriated and killed an arcane horror on his landing, a bunch of lowlifes in a slump or Hadriana’s army.

‘Don’t you dare betraying her,’ he mumbled. The last thing he saw before he fell into oblivion was her reassuring smile. The last he heard was, ‘I wouldn’t dare, Messere Fenris.’ And he believed her. A demon, or someone with bad intentions, would have covered the heavy Orlesian accent. He hoped. But by then he was in no condition to argue her good intensions.

He drifted off, still holding Marian close to him.

-

‘How is she doing? Is there any news?’

They all looked up, mystified and then more than surprised Berran stood there.

‘What the fuck has happened to you?!’ Sigrun blurted and again he realized he still bore the outward signs of the severe beating he had received. He fluttered a hand.

‘Later. How is she?’

Sigrun slumped back and Varric took over. ‘We don’t know. We haven’t received any news yet.’ He gave him a lopsided grin. ‘But maybe you can use your new found authority and bash in that bloody door to find out for yourself.’

Berran raised an eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I carry that kind of authority?’

The dwarf’s grin broadened. ‘You don’t have to be a genius to figure out you wouldn’t be here without some kind of instructions from her Holiness herself, if you had the status of a prisoner. Besides that, pride and self-esteem are dripping off you like ink from a quill. Or should I say like honey from a comb? Take care you don’t get stung by the queen bee. I get the feeling that in this city you can rise and fall and rise again like a bouncing ball. Try to remain on the upside this time, even if you have to conquer gravity to achieve that. On the other hand, I presume that will be much easier than to stay the Divine’s favourite.’

Berran couldn’t suppress a short laugh. ‘You might be pleased to hear I’m the Head of the Seekers now. Well, acting Head anyway. And yes, at this moment the Divine heeds my council. And I advised her to let you go, despite everything that has happened and you have caused.’

‘Happy to hear it,’ Varric commented dryly. ‘Has she already worked out how to keep us here against our will?’

‘I suppose not,’ Berran chortled, ‘though she’s learning fast.’

‘So,’ Isabela drawled, ‘it seems you haven’t betrayed Hawke after all. Unless you like being punched in the face like that. I must say, it surprises me.’ She cocked her head and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. ‘Did you bed the lady already or is it just a matter of time? Apparently she was impressed by your achievements. Whatever they may be.’

He felt so high at the moment that he could even forgive the pirate her flippancy.

‘Does this unexpected move on the chessboard of politics mean we are free to walk out of this palace?’ Zevran put in a word. They all looked at him. He smiled. ‘If you really have risen from pawn to bishop you could at least allow one of us to inform Titia and her little jumpy elf about all the occurrences. They are still waiting in that – tavern in lack of a better word.’

‘I will send a messenger as soon as I can,’ Berran promised.

At that very moment the door to the room in which Hawke had been treated opened and Odine appeared. She met a lot of questioning and suddenly strained faces. She gave them a reassuring half smile in return. ‘She lives and will survive,’ she said.

Before one of them even could react, Carver shot up and bolted for the entrance. Just in time Berran grabbed his arm. ‘Not so fast,’ he said, struggling against Carver’s strength.

‘Why is everybody trying to hold me back from my sister!’ he yelled heatedly, attempting to wriggle out of Berran’s firm grip.

‘Perhaps because no one knows what you will do to her?’ Isabela said sweetly. ‘You might as well hit or strangle her instead of confirming yourself she is indeed still alive.’

He shot daggers at her.

‘She is asleep,’ Odine prevented a major row, ‘and so is Fenris. Just let them for now; they need it, believe me.’

For the time being Carver submitted to her judgement.

-

When Hawke opened her eyes, she met the dim light of a few lit alabaster lamps in an otherwise dim room. She had no idea where she was but the first thing she noticed was that the unbearable pain was gone. And then that someone’s head was lying on her shoulder and that the owner of the head held her hand so firmly he almost crushed her fingers. Even in his sleep. She could hear his steady breath and feel it on her naked skin. She could smell his scent. Fenris. Her Fenris. She vaguely remembered he burst into the room where they had held her. She remembered more clearly how he had eased her pain just by touching her. What had happened after that she couldn’t recall. But he was here with her. That had to be a good sign. She lifted her free hand and let her fingers trail through his soft sleek hair. ‘Just like the moon,’ she whispered.

He woke with a start and heaved his head to look at her. She saw his silvery green eyes searching her with concern. She knew what he was looking for.

‘I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she said hoarsely. Her voice still didn’t work properly.

He sat up and drew her into his arms. ‘You can wake me any time,’ he said and she heard his voice didn’t work properly either. She felt the wetness of his tears on her cheek. She wanted to wipe them away but he wouldn’t let her. ‘You’re alive,’ he croaked, ‘you survived and still you recognize me.’

With a jolt she realized _how_ scared he must have been. Scared she would wake up as he had done all those years ago. Without any perception of his past or who he was. Without even knowing his own name. She felt ashamed. ‘I wanted to let go,’ she confessed shakily, ‘it was too much.’

‘I know,’ he breathed in her hair.

Yes, if anyone knew, it was her loved one. Only he could understand what she had endured. And at the same time guilt weighed heavily on her. ‘You told me I was in your thoughts when you lay gravely wounded on that ship in Denerim, and the only thing _I_ could do was scream until my vocal cords broke and pray I would die. I feel so –‘

He didn’t let her finish but placed his fingers on her lips. ‘That was not the same. I didn’t feel any pain anymore at that time. You did.’ He tenderly kissed her. ‘And I know all too well how much,’ he softly added. She wrapped her arms around him and took in his warm, protecting, loving presence.

‘Can we go home now?’ she pleaded hoarsely. ‘I’m so fed up with all this. I just want to lie in our bed with you. Our own bed in our own mansion. With all the debris and broken tiles and cobwebs. And to forget these last months ever happened.’

He chuckled softly. Then he cupped her face and looked sincerely in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we are going home.’ It sounded like a pledge and it was meant like that.

He didn’t care if he had to fight off the whole Orlesian army this time, or had to carry her all the way to fulfil his promise, he _would_ bring her home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be lemon, but the sweet variant.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 41

-

After Berran was convinced that Marian Hawke would recover and he had organized the revolting cleaning up in the Seekers Headquarters, he returned to his room in the Holy Palace. He was greatly upset; not only by the carnage he had stumbled upon but also because of the dazed state of mind he had found the surviving Seekers in. Justinia was right. It would take an enormous lot of work and ditto effort to restore the order to its former glory after this blow. He shook his head. He doubted if Fenris even knew what he had caused but was convinced the elf couldn’t care less if he told him. Besides that, former glory was not what he was aiming for; there would be numerous changes if he’d stay in charge. He took a quick bath to remove the filth that had covered him by only walking through the – battlefield. There was no other way to describe the place. He donned a simple but comfortable shirt and a pair of trousers. Cautiously he tested his ribs. They still hurt, but thanks to the ointment he had applied earlier, the pain had a great deal lessened. Satisfied with that outcome he left the room. Although this fateful night was nearing its end, he couldn’t take a rest; he still had to report back to the Divine. She certainly wouldn’t have gone to bed yet.

And she hadn’t. As he already had anticipated, she was waiting for him. What he had not anticipated, was that she was waiting in just a thin but exquisite silk evening robe, with her long, still slightly damp hair streaming around her shoulders and down her back. Barefoot. He caught a quick glance of an idly dangling small naked foot peeping out from under the hem of the robe and it hypnotised him. She stood up from her chair the moment he entered the room. The elegant rippling garment gave the illusion she was floating, an effect that was accentuated by her loose flowing hair. At once it stirred up all the memories of heated nights together, ever so more thrilling because they had to spend them in secret. Besides hypnotised he got awestruck and couldn’t utter a word.

‘Has she survived?’ was the only thing she asked him. When he answered with only a nod, his throat squeezed shut by the mere sight of her, she took one hesitant step before she suddenly hurled herself into his arms, almost tripping over her garment in the haste to reach him. He caught her eagerly and peppered her with heated kisses, not able to hold back. She answered his unleashed passion while she, at the same time, tugged him to her bedroom. One way or another she had got him undressed even before they had reached her goal and they had fallen on her ridiculously large eight-poster bed. Undressing her was a simple feat; he only had to remove that thin silk robe, which easily gave way, and toss it aside. The exciting red and black lingerie she wore under it astounded him and aroused him even more. It took him some exalted heartbeats to admire the breathtaking pieces of exquisite lace and silk but then he removed them with a mixture of reverence and impatience.

He had almost forgotten how it was. How she felt. The smoothness of her skin, her still taut body, unmarred by battle or pregnancies. Her scent. Her touch. The soft noises she made under his caresses. How she moved with him. How she submitted herself to him with entire confidence. How she could give herself in utter surrender. How she let him take the lead and have his way with her and revelled in it.

Almost.

Now he feasted on her, after all these years, the memories rushed back to fill the gap of all that lonely time without this ecstasy. Without her. He rejoiced in their reunion, even though it would be for just one night. He had craved for just one night more and now his wish had come true, he treasured it. Even though it happened because she was upset and needed consolation. He would give that to her. And give much more.

She fervently received.

He lost himself in her. He worshiped her, adored every inch of her and took possession of her in the most tender and at the same time most passionate way possible. Every feverish dream of the last empty years came alive. And she responded as if she had experienced the same. As if she only now became aware of his presence. Had shared his feelings, had shared his desires. And at the very height of their melting, at the moment she cried out and he felt his heat dissolve with hers, he knew she _had_ shared his desires, that she had longed as much for him as he had for her. That she knew about the lonely nights.

And now he held her in his arms, drowsily but at the same time fast awake to carve every moment into his memory. He never wanted to forget this night. A lost love coming back. He knew that between now and a few moments she would tell him they had to stop this folly – again and he wanted to postpone the inevitable. He kissed her slowly, deeply and with all his attention, searching with his hands the curves of her body and drawing her close. She put her arms around him and sighed quivering on his lips when he finally ended the kiss.

‘What do we do now?’ she asked after a while. She lifted her head and framed his face with both hands.

He looked confused. ‘You’re asking me?’

Justinia smiled faintly. ‘I can’t help thinking that this whole mess wouldn’t have taken place if we had maintained our liaison.’

Confused changed into baffled. ‘What do you mean?’

She sat up and he followed her example, taking her in his arms again, not willing to let go as yet. She didn’t recoil but leant her head on his shoulder.

‘I mean, you wouldn’t have felt the urge to run off and perform all kinds of foolish deeds in the attempt to be a hero to impress me. And don’t try to deny it.’

‘I, no I’m afraid I can’t refute that argument,’ he stuttered, getting even more bewildered, ‘You are right. I was hoping, against better judgement, I would win back your heart, had I succeeded.’

Out of the blue she giggled like a young girl. ‘Oh Albert, you can be such a romantic ... idiot. What made you think you had lost my heart in the first place?’

‘Well, ending our relationship was a strong indication,’ he replied wanly, softly dragging his fingers through her long hair.

She sagged a little. ‘At that time I was convinced I had no choice.’ She laid her hand on his chest. ‘I confess I acted cowardly and not without some self-interest.’

‘You hinted you were blackmailed,’ Berran said hesitantly, taken aback by her blunt admission. ‘Although, come to think of it, you never mentioned it openly. You just talked about the common good or something like that.’ He was getting more befuddled by the minute. Even during their time together, she never had been this forthright. He suspected it was a residue of what she had witnessed earlier that night. “We have to end this now” was lingering around the corner, he knew for sure.

‘And I was. Blackmailed. You guessed well. I could never prove it but I have the strong assumption by the very person who now occupies a cell in the dungeons. Speaking about cowardice,’ she scoffed contemptuously. ‘He never had the courage to approach me openly; he just sent me anonymous threatening notes.’ With grim satisfaction she added, ‘I confess I never felt more liberated or even delighted than when I slapped him in the face and saw his shocked expression.’ She snorted content before she tenderly kissed his shoulder. He closed his eyes at the enticing touch of her lips.

‘Villefranche and I never went along, to put it mildly,’ she went on. ‘And I admit I was scared and distressed, so I gave in. I thought my position was at stake and nothing good could come from a crisis over who held the power.’ She let out a little sarcastic laugh. ‘As if all the Chantries in Thedas would collapse if I were forced to step down. Someone else would have hurried to fill my place.’ She huffed and then touched his skin once more. With a small voice she continued, ‘I hurt you with my decision. I know and I am sorry.’ He didn’t know how to react so he just caressed her face. After a short pause she said, more firmly this time, ‘But it seems I don’t need proof any longer to take measures. That is, he can no longer hold our affair against me after the revolting crimes he has committed.’ She sounded ferocious at those words.

He gave her a soft squeeze. ‘But others will try. You yourself used the word snake-pit to indicate this court. Are you really willing to put your position at stake by repairing our relation?’ There was nothing he desired more than to be with her but he didn’t want to put her into danger either.

 Justinia laughed. ‘I have the feeling I’ll wager a lot more if I don’t. Maker knows what you will do next; I fear marching into Minrathous to lay your hands upon the Black Divine himself and start a war with the Tevinter Imperium will be the least.’ With a short chortle she playfully tapped her fingers lightly on his chest. He suppressed a wince. She didn’t know about his broken ribs. Frankly, he had forgotten about his injuries himself for the last hour, and he didn’t want her to notice his physical discomfort. ‘But perhaps we better suspend this conversation. There are more important things to talk about right now. Like what that strange band of brothers, you got yourself associated with, brought about.’ She prevented his answer by kissing him. ‘Over breakfast. I hardly think that topic is fit for pillow talk. So let’s get out of bed. I won’t be able to sleep anyway and, I suppose, neither will you.’

Reluctantly he had to agree and followed her example of getting dressed with a combination of utter happiness and deep disquiet.

-

Danarius was getting restless. According to his calculations Hadriana should have arrived in Minrathous by now. He was willing to assume she had encountered some obstacles that had delayed her return but, even if that were the case, he had at least expected a message she was on her way. The last note dated from many weeks previous and was sent from Amaranthine. He had knotted his brows when he received it; what the hell was she doing in that city? But the tenor of the message had been positive: everything was going according to plan and the targets were in sight. After that, only silence. What could possibly have happened? Had she betrayed him like that treacherous Antivan elf? He had rejected that thought as preposterous. His apprentice was very ambitious and far too eager to become a true magister to be disloyal, at any rate until she had been installed as a member of the Magisterium. He got more and more afraid things had gone terribly wrong.

And to crown it all he was summoned by the Archon. In his invitation Vitellius had tried to make believe it was a social call, but Danarius knew better. There existed no such thing as social calls or small talk among Magisters. There were just politics, subcutaneous pinpricks and (usual badly) concealed insinuations. Vitellius received him in his luxuriously furnished study and offered him a glass of wine, which Danarius gracefully accepted. He first took a cautious sniff, pretending to smell the rich bouquet, before taking a small sip. It was considered as not done to poison or even drug one’s guests, but one could never be too vigilant.

The Archon opened the polite hostilities. ‘How is the search for your runaway bodyguard going..? Forgive me, I forgot. What’s his name again..?’

Danarius carefully put his glass down on the low table between the comfortable arm chairs. No way would Vitellius have forgotten such important detail, but he had no choice than to play along. ‘Fenris. I have some pretty good leads and I expect him home very soon.’ He gave the Archon a small nod. ‘Thank you for your concern.’

The Archon replied with a warm but false smile. ‘I understand you put your promising apprentice on his tail this time,’ he babbled amiably. ‘I must say, I never comprehended why you didn’t send her after him in the first place. She’s very capable. I wished I could find a promising novice like her.’

‘That is the reason why I didn’t want to turn her into a tracker dog.’ There was an icy edge to Danarius’s voice he couldn’t entirely avoid. ‘She is too valuable. But since none of my hunting parties have been able to retrieve my little wolf, I decided to make use of her after all.’ No harm in telling Vitellius this; the whole of Minrathous knew about the failures. _And snigger about it in their sleeves_ , he thought sourly. In the meantime he wondered what the Archon was aiming at.

‘You know, I’ve heard the strangest of rumours.’

_Ah, and here we’ll have it._

‘Did you now.’ Danarius leant back in his chair, seemingly carelessly but in fact even more on his guard.

‘You remember Malcolm Hawke?’

It took all Danarius’s self-control to keep a straight composure. Vitellius would be a worthless Archon if he didn’t know that Danarius was aware of the facts about Hawke, but he wasn’t supposed to share that information, unless he was up to something. What in the blazes had he found out? ‘Of course I remember him. How could I forget Tevinter’s most talented student ever?’ He crossed his legs and nonchalantly rearranged something about his robes.

‘Then it will pain you to learn that he is dead. He left us, however, a daughter. You didn’t perchance know anything about her existence..?’

Danarius lifted his glass and noticed to his satisfaction his hand didn’t show the slightest tremble. Should he deny or admit? He slowly waltzed the wine around in the glass and opted for some middle ground. ‘That is indeed ... interesting.’

‘It gets even more interesting.’

He didn’t trust Vitelius’s smug expression and got even more alarmed. Not without reason, he realized very soon.

‘Apparently this daughter is also a mage and possibly even more powerful than her father was.’ Danarius deemed it wisest not to react. ‘But the most interesting detail is, well, she is, how shall I put it, acquainted with your little wolf. In the most intimate way.’

Danarius viciously wished to wipe that hardly hidden conceited smirk of Vitelius’s face. He managed to replace his glass without spilling a drop. How in the name of cursed Andraste did he discover _that_?!

‘You’re not excited?’ the Archon went on sweetly, his high pitched voice screeching like a piece of chalk on a blackboard, sending icy shivers down Danarius’s spine. ‘I know I was, when I heard about it. It cost me quite a lot of good men, apparently murdered by some Antivan assassin, before I learned that little morsel of juicy information. But it was all worth it.’ _Kaffas!_ ‘Honestly, it amazes me you didn’t know about it, unless...’ The insinuation hovered ominously in the air. The Archon’s expression had become serious, almost sad. He was a good actor.

Danarius raised his brow. ‘Unless what?’ he threw back, playing hurt. He also knew a thing or two about the art of acting.

The men glared at each other as two birds of prey, or rather as two vultures, waiting for the other to make the first move. The Archon sneered predatorily but his tone was unctuous when he said, ‘I really do hope you’re not planning to thwart me; it would break my heart if my dear friend would go behind my back to scheme against me.’

Danarius conjured up a bleak smile. ‘You know I would never do such thing.’ It sounded lame, even in his own ears.

Vitellius heaved a hand in a peaceful gesture. ‘Of course I know,’ he said soothingly. ‘It was never my intention to accuse you. But if I may give you some little advice: perhaps, in the future, you should pick your spies and assassins more carefully. Just a friendly suggestion.’

All the way home Danarius was simmering until his rage almost bubbled over the brim. His plans were ruined, or at least seriously delayed. He had been exposed, had lost face and was humiliated. This was a major setback. And if Hadriana had failed, and he got more and more convinced she had, it could take perhaps years before he would get another opportunity to get his hands upon the wolf and the hawk. Especially since the Archon had taken an interest in them. He had to move with great care in the time to come. Besides that, he would secretly have to check the movements of the Archon and his spies, and inspect the ones he employed himself. _Fasta vass!_

This time a substantial part of his expensive crystal and china did turn into splinters on the marble floor and he didn’t even regret it the next day.

-

When Hawke opened her eyes, she found Fenris already awake. He was lying next to her, leaning on an elbow, looking intensely at her. Or rather scrutinizing her. She laughed softly. ‘Afraid I’ve lost my memory after all?’

‘No,’ he said softly, with a fleeting smile. ‘Just mulling about how I could have prevented the things that have transpired of late. Especially the horrible suffering you had to endure.’ He tentatively traced a thin white scar on her arm.

Resolutely she sat up and pushed him on his back on the mattress. ‘Oh no, my love, you’re not going to wallow in feelings of guilt. And we’re definitely not going to have a shouting match about who is the most responsible for all the mess. If you have to shout at someone, find a convenient Seeker.’

Easily he turned her around, holding her wrists beside her head and dipped to nuzzle her neck. ‘There are not that many Seekers left to shout at,’ he mumbled.

Her eyes grew wide. ‘Oh Maker, Fenris, what have you done?’

With a sigh he let go of her and sat up. He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. ‘To be honest, it is a very bloody story.’ His remembrance of the clash was hazy and crystal clear at the same time, as some kind of unreal scene, as if it had happened in a dream. He was very well aware of how his unleashed frenzy had been the bright centre of some kind of moving pictures, full of blood-spattered action, but it all blurred at the edges. ‘Are you certain you want to hear it?’

He had found out, shortly after he had woken up, that somebody had taken the effort to remove his clothes and to clean him up somewhat. With the emphasis on somewhat. He must have been really fast asleep not to notice it. Some other new strange but wondrous experience due to her. He had climbed out of bed and washed himself at a basin filled with fresh water, before he had gone back and had once again settled down next to her. He had just looked at her, immensely amazed and grateful she was still alive. And herself.

She drew herself up on her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Yes, I want to hear it,’ she said earnestly, ‘as long as you leave out the “it’s all but my fault” part. Start at the beginning.’

‘If that’s your wish, than it’s going to be a long story,’ he said with a sudden mischievously twinkle. He took a breath and started, ‘In the beginning there was nothing but the Void...’

She looked incredulously at him and began to laugh. It still sounded throaty. ‘If you intend to take my request that literally, we’ll still be here tomorrow morning!’

Fenris grinned slightly apologetically. ‘I thought that, along the way, I could find an excuse to somehow blame the Maker, since you don’t want me to blame myself.’

With a sigh she nestled in his lap. ‘Why don’t we omit the whole guilt and blame issue and you just tell me what happened.’

He let his hands sensually wander over her back and arms. ‘Are you certain?’ he murmured seductively in her ear with that irresistibly rough velvet voice of his, ‘I can think of –‘

‘Fenris!’

‘Alright, alright, if you insist. No need to get annoyed.’ He rested his head upon hers, took a deep breath and began telling, starting with what had happened at Lake Calenhad Docks after her abduction, and ending with the efforts of Wynne and Odine to remove the red lyrium.

When he was finished, Marian stayed quiet for a while. Then she said, ‘And you claimed _I_ went through a lot of trouble to free _you_. I only had to attack a ship full of dim nitwits, while you, you ...’ Her voice trailed off. She fell speechless at the immensity of his deeds.

‘Did I have a choice?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Was I supposed to leave you in that dragon’s den at their mercy?’

She pressed her body hard against his and buried her face in his shoulder to conceal her tears. ‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ she breathed. He just held her, tenderly trailing his fingers along her skin. After a few moments she asked, nearly inaudible, ‘What about Berran?’  

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.’ Fenris hesitated for a heartbeat, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. ‘Listen, love, I don’t know yet what the consequences of what I’ve done will be. The Divine took the Head of the Seekers into custody and she sent a healer to assist Wynne. I suppose those are good signs. But whatever will happen, I will keep to my promise and bring you home.’

She heaved her head and smiled at him with glistening eyes. ‘I know.’ Her smile broadened. ‘After all, you are my knight in shining lyrium. And you all but proved it.’

He lifted her chin to look fully into her bright sapphire eyes. ‘I wasn’t a knight in any armour whatsoever, back in Denerim,’ he said with a crooked smile. ‘And you are hardly a damsel in distress.’

‘I was now,’ she murmured, ‘and you came to my rescue. I would have died without you.’

Before his feelings could overwhelm him, he let his lips descend on hers. But at the moment they started a heated kiss, they got interrupted by a knock on the door, tapped out in a familiar pattern.

‘Some things never change,’ said Marian with a sigh that couldn’t hide a little chuckle.

‘Yes, Varric,’ Fenris called out, ‘we’re awake.’

‘Then get your lazy arses out of bed and join us for breakfast,’ the dwarf’s grumbling gruffly voice rang from the other side of the door. ‘Now!’ he added in a menacing tone.

‘Two possibilities,’ Fenris mused wryly while they reluctantly got up, ‘he hasn’t got his morning ale yet, or they have taken Bianca away from him. Again.’

‘Let’s hope not both at the same time,’ Hawke grimaced, ‘or we’ll all have hell to pay.’

-

As it turned out, the distress was caused by the absence of Bianca and Varric was worried sick she wasn’t paid the respect she deserved.

‘I’m quite positive she will be treated with utmost reverence, after what she has shown she’s capable of,’ Fenris said, barely able to hide an amused smirk. At this moment he felt relieved and happy enough to play along. ‘I know for sure her guardians will be too afraid she will start to sing out of her own accord, and will think twice before they will harm her. As a matter of fact, I’m convinced they will do nothing but worship her to keep her in a good mood.’ He fervently tried to keep a straight face.

Sigrun ducked into her cup of coffee to stifle a loud laugh. Varric groused something unintelligible in his ale but didn’t comment.

Carver had jumped up from the breakfast table the moment they entered, and had almost squashed his sister in his tight embrace. He had escorted her to a chair and sat her down with gentle care, like she was made of delicate porcelain. With somewhat mild bewilderment she had let him. He had poured her a cup of coffee and put some freshly baked bread on her plate, together with a piece of the Orlesian cheese even he knew she loved. If Fenris hadn’t told her about the night he had spent with her brother in the tap-room of the Spoiled Princess, Hawke hadn’t believed his actions were sincerely meant. Probably she would have made a bad remark out of pure astonishment. Now she just nodded thankfully at him. ‘I’m alright, Carver, totally the old me again. But thank you for this sweet treatment.’ A bright beam accompanied her words and he answered her with a broad smile of his own.

After Wynne was convinced Hawke had totally recuperated from her ordeal, she cautiously asked, ‘Are you still set on finding that amantium mine, Serah Hawke?’

Marian took a sip of coffee and absentmindedly turned a piece of bread around between her fingers. She thought back at the conversation she had had with the Divine. ‘I’m not certain. Things have become complicated. Even more complicated than they already were.’ She looked up at her audience. ‘Before I was dragged to the Seekers’ Headquarters, I had a, er, discussion with the Divine. And she pointed out a quite important detail we have totally overlooked in our enthusiasm.’

‘And what might that be?’ muttered Varric, who was still recovering from Fenris’s light-hearted remarks about Bianca. ‘An acute shortage of excavation utensils, due to Imperial development plans?’

‘The Tevinter Imperium,’ Marian simply said.

‘What do you mean?’ Fenris asked. He sounded strained.

Hawke worried her lip. ‘Divine Justinia drew attention to the dangerous implications, should Tevinter be the only country left in Thedas with mages. Their troops could storm roughshod over our nations, unleashing their magical power, without us being able to stop them.’

‘But we would still have our Templars, no?’ objected Zevran, hesitantly.

‘For the first few years, certainly,’ Hawke said. ‘But what happens after that? With hardly any mages left, Templars will only be needed to search for rebels and the organisation will be cut back.’

‘The Tevinter Imperium will bide their time and strike when we are most vulnerable,’ Fenris said grimly. ‘How can I have not thought about such a scenario?! How short-sighted I have been! It’s so obvious!’

‘None of us did, my love,’ said Marian, forestalling some undeserved self-punishment.

‘I ... must admit I never thought that far ahead,’ Wynne said, a bit shaken. ‘I was intrigued by Malcolm’s notes and was afraid something bad would come out of it, yes. But not a Tevinter attack.’

‘You can join the club,’ said Hawke with a forced smile. ‘I suppose we were all too caught up in our quest to think about such bleak consequences.’ Gently she squeezed Fenris’s hand, to let him feel he shouldn’t blame himself.

Silence fell; everyone was digesting the disturbing information.

Finally Carver asked, ‘What do you suggest we do now?’

Hawke grimaced. ‘Part of me still wants to find the mine, if only out of curiosity. After all, no-one needs to know what we’re up to in the Frostback Mountains.’ She squeezed her lover’s hand for a second time, because she could easily guess what he had to say about that. ‘But, on the other hand, I just want to go back to Kirkwall and take a long time off. I can always try to decipher Father’s code-language in all peace and quiet. At least, if I’m allowed to get his notebook back.’

‘You’ve been through more than enough,’ Fenris firmly stated, as she had expected. ‘In my opinion that alone is a legitimate reason to abort this enterprise.’

 ‘We have come this far,’ Carver protested timidly. ‘Should we really abandon the whole operation? I mean, if we keep the outcome under wraps, what harm will it do? You said so yourself.’

Isabela reacted with mild sarcasm. ‘Don’t you think you have found out enough about your father, without pressing it any further?’ she put in a word. ‘I for one would think it too much information a parent of mine started a Blight, involuntarily or not.’

Hawke cast a glance at Fenris’s tense face. She could almost literally see the waves of emotions that swirled behind his solid composure. This wasn’t only about what the Divine had revealed as a great danger. The mention of the Tevinter Imperium also brought back an almost forgotten remark, nearly drowned in all the exciting occurrences. Whatever might have happened, of course Fenris hadn’t forgotten that not only Danarius but also the Archon were after them both. She still didn’t know how to take his conviction. Were those two really powerful enough to hatch and execute such a plan? Or was Fenris driven by mere fear? Silently she was convinced they would sooner thwart each other, than succeed in their goal. Mentally she shook herself. There would be time enough to talk about it, once they returned home. She turned to her brother.

‘We don’t have to discover that mine to learn about Father’s intensions,’ she said, more resolute than she felt. ‘Because, remember, we already know.’ She let out a hoarse laugh. ‘In case you forgot: it was all about me.’ With a lot of strength she forced down a sudden upcoming fit of hysterics. She hadn’t realized how raw her nerves still were. It helped that Fenris tenderly caressed her wrist with his fingers. ‘And Isabela,’ she went on, ‘I’m genuinely amazed to hear you don’t want to hunt treasures.’ She smiled a bit shakily at the pirate queen, in a feeble attempt to ease her anxiety.

‘Sweetness, the desire for treasure can only go that far,’ Isabela smiled back. ‘Even I recognise the limits.’

At the same moment a servant materialized.

‘Messeres,’ he said with a solemn bow, ‘her Holiness requests your presence.’

And that only worsened Hawke’s tension.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

-

Divine Justinia was standing behind her desk, observing the group assembled before her. A “strange band of brothers” she had called them and only now she became aware of how strange they actually were. A most peculiar hotchpotch of humans, elves and dwarves, of warriors, rogues, mages and even Grey Wardens. They seemed to be an utterly ill-fitting bunch of hirelings, brought together by someone with little money or perhaps lacking time and patience to handpick more suitable candidates. But, according to Berran, they worked together surprisingly well, as long as you overlooked the never ending squabbles. Considering how they had handled the Seekers, he undoubtedly was right. The other night she had hardly had the chance to observe them, except for Fenris of course, as she had been too preoccupied with the unexpected and overwhelming occurrences.

Her examining gaze met several stares, lingering between neutral, amused and curious, and one glowering scowl from the with lyrium tattooed elf. He stood next to Marian Hawke and appeared to be ready to spring into action at one wrongly uttered word. She noticed he had laid his hand on the small of her back. His other hand was clenched to a fist. She knew by now he wasn’t possessive as such, sooner very protective. After all that had happened, and especially after what Villefranche had done to his lover, she couldn’t blame him. It struck her, however, that none of them looked ill at ease or even a little nervous. There was no trace of insolence, but neither she saw the submissive attitude, or at least the careful watchfulness, she was used to. It was ... strange. A little unnerving, even, but also refreshing.

She nodded at the young woman. ‘I’m relieved and very pleased to see you have recuperated, Messere Hawke.’

She got a small polite nod back. ‘Thank you.’

Justinia cast a sidelong glance upon Albert Berran who had taken position between her and the others. For a moment she wondered whose side he’d choose, should an argument break out, but then he sent her a slight supportive smile. At that moment she knew for certain he would take on the much hated and unappreciated role of the mediator, if need arose. She had thought hard and deep about it and had decided there would be no need. She oppressed the urge to smile back. Instead she took a breath and said, ‘I should keep all of you here.’

Fenris took a threatening step forward but Marian lightly touched his wrist. ‘Please don’t,’ she breathed. Whatever the Divine was about to say, it wouldn’t help the circumstances if he, if any of them, would burst out in anger. Apparently he realized it too. He stepped back and just took her hand in his. _For once_ I _have to withhold_ him, she mused wryly.

‘Not as my prisoners,’ the Divine continued, pretending she hadn’t seen the little scene, ‘but as witnesses. Villefranche will be put on trial and, as I promised earlier, justice will be done.’ She looked Fenris in the eyes at those words and the elf looked straight back as to challenge her to make that pledge come true. ‘Your testimony could be of great importance. In particular yours, Messere Hawke.’

Marian’s heart sank. She didn’t want to spend another day in this city; she intensely longed for home. ‘I’m certain there are enough other people who could do the job,’ she said, trying not to sound desolated.

The Divine lifted her hand. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Messere Hawke, you are free to leave. All of you are. As a matter of fact, I have taken the liberty to draw up a document and you only have to sign it. I believe it covers all Villefranche’s malevolent actions and it will be more than sufficient to condemn him.’ After a short pause she added, ‘To be honest, I’m not quite sure what is worse: the application of blood magic, his persistent denying my wishes or the way he treated you.’ She gave Hawke a weak smile. ‘I hope you understand that is a random order. You suffered too much. I admit that your own statement of what Villefranche did to you could put significant weight to the court case, but I won’t ask that much from you. Like I said, you are free to go.’

‘I am relieved,’ Marian replied calmly. ‘To be honest, I didn’t think you would let us go just like that.’ The sheer thought of facing her torturer again made her stomach lurch. Her eyes fluttered to Berran, wondering if they had him to thank for this surprising turn of events, but he didn’t answer her look. She fidgeted with the amantium ring for a moment, thanking the Maker Villefranche hadn’t known anything about the ability of the metal and the runes. She was positive that Berran had told the Divine about it, but evidently the woman hadn’t passed that piece of information on to the former Head of the Seekers. Apparently she hadn’t trust him very much to start with.

‘Just remember the conversation we had, Messere Hawke and take my warning to heart. The next time I will not be this lenient.’

‘Rest assured, the last thing I want, is to give the Imperium the chance to rule Thedas once again.’ Not to mention the fact she didn’t want to attract even more Tevinter attention to Fenris and herself. 

‘Alright, Messere Hawke. Tomorrow morning there will be a ship waiting for you to take you to wherever you want to go. Just give me the assurance you won’t speak about what happened with anyone who isn’t present here.’

Marian raised her brow in astonishment. Without thinking she let the words slip. ‘Don’t tell me you are that naive to believe the whole city isn’t already talking about the exciting incident in the Seekers Headquarters?! I’m pretty sure if something like this would happen in Kirkwall, it would have been all over the town by now.’ She felt Fenris firmly grip her hand. _Oh shit, I did it again; I really should take care about what I blurt out and especially to whom._

Justinia looked hard at her. ‘No, Messere Hawke, I’m _not_ that naive. For a short while I hoped the Seekers would keep their defeat a secret. But I’m well aware that, just as in Kirkwall, for one reason or another in this city too everything becomes known within no time. What I meant, however, is that I at least want to have the opportunity to resolve the problems before the whole of _Thedas_ is talking about it.’ _Although even that will be an idle hope, I fear, considering the amount of spies sneaking around._

‘Of course,’ Marian mumbled, meekly.

_And I wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow the whole of Val Royeaux also know we are lovers again,_ _cursed fire,_ Justinia thought grimly but then she straightened her shoulders. _Andraste herself was married and rumour is she took a lover. An elven lover no less._ She looked at Fenris once more. _Perhaps it is time to change the rules._ She chuckled inwardly. _What a storm that would bring about._

With force she pushed the thought aside. Not now. Already too many problems tried to absorb her attention at the same time. Suddenly she felt utterly tired and drained; all the trouble and excitement, and not to forget the night without sleep, were starting to take their toll.

She gave Marian Hawke another wavering smile. ‘Perhaps we will get the opportunity to speak at another occasion. I think now is not the right moment. Just sign the paper and be certain Villefranche will be punished. Leave on the morrow and return to your former life.’ With that she turned and left the room through a back passage. She had had enough to cope with. She desperately needed a few moments of quiet.

 -

Justinia hurried to her bedroom, secretively hoping Berran would follow her the moment he was able to. Because, once again, whether she liked it or not, she was greatly affected by Marian Hawke. And by the with lyrium tattooed not to be ignored grand personality who stood by her side. Even worse, this time not only by her and her lover, but by their group of friends as well. They hadn’t uttered a word, but each one of them had looked as fiercely as if they were willing to fight all of Thedas to protect Hawke. To keep her safe.

All at once she felt very lonely. Who would come to _her_ rescue? She could imagine the answer but would he really, if need arose? She didn’t dare hope. She had cast him aside once already, hurt him to the core. Could he really believe she would be loyal to him this time? Be true to him, not hurt him again? How could she ask from him to put his trust into her once more? She tried to put her thoughts and feelings in perspective, because she knew they were merely due to her exhaustion, but it wasn’t easy. She got rid of her heavy brocade robes and lay down on her stomach on her bed, clutching a pillow, struggling to calm down.

She let out a little sigh when she sensed him sitting down beside her on the feather mattress. If only he would stay with her for one night more. This coming night. ‘Did I do right?’ It was such a relief to have someone to ask that kind of questions to. He wouldn’t see it as weakness and, besides that, would be honest.

‘Yes, love, you did,’ he answered, while softly massaging the tense muscles in her shoulders.

She groaned in bliss and allowed herself to relax. ‘I wish I could see the future, see how my decisions will work out.’

He kissed her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. She could feel him smile on her skin. ‘No one can predict the future. We can only curse the past and rely on the present.’

She knew what he was hinting at but didn’t agree. She turned and took his face between her hands. ‘Cursing the past is condemning our fate and diminishing our ability of making choices. We took our decisions in the past and although we can regret them and acknowledge our mistakes, and lament as much as we like, we can’t change them now. Our decisions shape the future. For better or for worse.’ She couldn’t help to shiver, although she tried to back it down. ‘And the edge between past and future is so thin,’ she added, almost inaudible. ‘It’s just a wisp of breath, a hardly spoken word, a heartbeat. And it can change the world.’ _And wreck everything we hold dear._

His fingers tenderly stroked her face. He could see clearly through her words and catch the meaning that lay behind them. The yearning for endorsement, for someone to back her, to spar with if need be. The longing for being loved. Her pit deep loneliness. Her constant fear of making mistakes. ‘No Justinia. Perhaps my words were too harsh, and certainly too personal, but you are wrong. Decisions _can_ be changed, the past _can_ be altered and with that, the present. Even the future.’ His voice faltered but he put up courage. His black eyes shone with vigour when he said, ‘If you let me, I will always stand beside you.’ He added quietly, ‘If you need me just say the word.’

She touched his cheek with trembling fingers. ‘You know me best of all,’ she breathed, ‘I missed you. I can play the Iron Lady and everyone falls for it but I can’t fool you. I plead guilty. So please, tell me again, did I do right? Will the decision I took today make a better future?’

He gently kissed her brow. ‘You know I can’t promise you that. The only thing I can tell you, is that I think you did the right thing, But that’s just my opinion.’ The smile he gave her travelled straight to her heart.

She hid her face in his chest and let out a light sob.

‘Will you defend me?’

‘Always.’

‘Against anything?’

‘Against anything and anyone trying to harm you. But you still haven’t said the word.’

She surrendered. She had no choice. And, frankly, she didn’t want it any other way. She was so tired of being alone, of carrying all the responsibility on her shoulders until her back almost broke. ‘Yes, I need you. I need you by my side. Please.’ She embraced him and gave herself to him once more.

With a sigh he covered her body with his and kissed her deeply. She could feel his love when he entered her and it coursed through her body until it filled every part of her. She wept when she came apart, and he firmly held her in his arms. They both were silent for a long time, just content with being wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The future would bring struggles, she knew for sure, but she wouldn’t have to face them alone.

-

It was the following day and the notorious “Band of Brothers” were gathered at the docks in Val Royeaux, Varric once again happily reunited with Bianca. (‘And don’t forget the Sisters,’ Sigrun had remarked dryly when she heard about the moniker. ‘Quite important, that lot.’) They were about to set sail to Amaranthine where they would pick up the _Chubby Mermaid_ and say good-bye to Carver and Sigrun. Isabela had whooped in delight when she saw the sleek brigantine waiting for them and had sprinted on board.

They were escorted by Berran and a small complement of the Divine’s personal guard, although Hawke had the feeling this wasn’t so much about protection but more about the Divine wanting to make it absolutely certain they would leave the city. She was still flabbergasted Divine Justinia had let them go just like that. She rested a sideways look upon the Seeker, but before she could broach the subject, he retrieved something from under his cloak and pushed a small packet into her hands.

She raised a brow. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

 ‘Your father’s notes,’ he confirmed with a nod. ‘Perhaps I should burn them, but I thought it more proper to give them to you. I trust you will be careful with them.’

‘I will,' Marian promised.

He offered her his hand which she warmly shook. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you into all the trouble, Hawke. Had I known everything beforehand, I would have approached it completely differently.’

‘Like inviting me to the Hanged Man and talk about it over a pint of ale?’ Hawke said with a little smile.

‘Definitively,’ he chortled.

‘Who knows we will meet again someday and we can revive the good old memories,’ she offered.

‘I would like that but I’m afraid I will be terrible busy in the time to come.’ He turned to Fenris who, as always, was standing at her side. ‘Promise me you will take care of her.’

The elf gave him a lopsided smile. ‘I can only promise we will take care of each other.’

Berran returned the smile. ‘I’ll settle for that. I have the feeling you both run in all sorts of dangers, if you don’t keep an eye on one another.’

Marian said sweetly, ‘Like receiving an assignment to wipe out a dangerous mage and ending up in an almost deadly trap? And after that getting swept along in an adventure that will provide Varric with more fodder for stories he could ever dream of?’

Berran replied with one of his dark looks, but this time there shone a sunny twinkle in it that hadn’t been there before. ‘Something like that.’

‘I didn’t get the chance to ask this sooner, Berran,’ Wynne interfered, ‘but what happened to Leliana?’

Marian tensed at the mention of the name but Berran cut her predictable reaction short. ‘I know how you feel about her, Hawke, but she’s not a traitor. To be honest, I consider her another victim of Villefranche’s foul schemes. In fact, she was the one who warned the Divine.’

‘After she let everything happen, she did. Us taking prisoner. You getting beat up – no you don’t have to confirm that, the bruises on your face speak volumes – me ...’ Her voice faltered and she turned her eyes to the men hauling the crates and barrels aboard the ship. An awkward silence fell.

Finally Berran said, ‘She was deceived by Villefranche. She never knew what he had in store for you.’

Marian snorted derisively but didn’t react.

‘Believe me or not, but when she found out what Villefranche had done, she risked everything to warn Justinia. Even her own life. She’s the one who convinced Justinia to take measures against Villefranche, even before I or even Fenris could.’

Marian bowed her head. ‘If so, if all this is true, then why hasn’t she shown herself?’

Both Berran and Wynne shared a silent but significant look. It was Varric who gave the answer, because he had overheard their conversation and simply couldn’t help himself.

‘Because, oh great leader,’ (Marian cringed at that stupid title but the dwarf deliberately didn’t take notice,) ‘your precious aforesaid lover already almost ran his hand through the Head of the Seekers ...’ He paused shortly to take a little bow at Berran. ‘Beg my pardon, the _former_ Head of the Seekers. So, our little Songbird, as Zevran so eloquently calls her, to our pirate queen’s dismay I might add, was scared to death the same fate would befall her. I can’t blame her she’s too afraid to turn up in his presence.’

‘Thank you Varric,’ Berran said, a little taken aback. He squeezed Marian’s hand again and smiled at her. ‘Well, that more or less explains it. I’ve listened to her part of the story and I believe her. I even made her my assistant. Since my function as Head of the Seekers has become a permanent one, I’ve decided to start from scrap. To do so, I’m in need of trustworthy new recruits.’

‘I can only hope she is indeed worthy of your trust and you won’t wake up one day with a knife in your back,’ Fenris commented somewhat sceptical. Just like Marian, he was not wholeheartedly convinced.

‘I’m fairly certain she’ll be an asset to your team, Berran,’ Wynne said confidentially. Fenris just shook his head.

After Berran had said goodbye to the others, he turned and left with the guards.

-

Halmet Penrath couldn’t believe his eyes. He had just hoisted a sack with spices on his shoulder and was about to step on the gangplank to bring the goods aboard the bulky merchant ship bound for Denerim, when he spotted the young woman standing on the quay-side among a group of people. She was talking amiably with a tall man clad in a dark robe, adorned with the symbol of the Seekers. A guard of eight Templars, the Divine’s personal Templars, he noticed, stood in the back. He recognized her right away; she hadn’t changed much. He stiffened and almost immediately immense fury flared up. Thanks to her and her abominable family he had been forced to toil in this blighted harbour for over four years by now, trying to scrape together some kind of a living. What the hell was she doing here? He got kicked in his back by the overseer.

‘Get going, you lazy brat,’ the man growled, ‘that carrier won’t load herself.’

Penrath stifled a curse. At the risk of being kicked again, or worse, he grumbled, ‘Who are those people?’ He hinted with his head at the gathered group standing on the quay. The Seeker and the Templar guard were taking their leave and the rest of them turned to embark the elegant brigantine, moored next to the merchant ship.

‘How am I supposed to know?’ the overseer snarled. ‘I only know the brigantine is commandeered by the Divine herself, so I suppose they are too posh for the kind of you. Now move it.’

That same night Halmet Penrath lurked in a corner of one of the cheep drinking holes in the harbour district. The place, just like the rest of Val Royeaux, was bustling with the rumours of the attack on the Seekers Headquarters. He didn’t intervene with the agitated conversations; he just sat nursing his pint of sour ale and listened. He heard the most amazing and implausible stories.

‘The blood was running down the stairs like a river!’ a thick-set man with a shock of flaming red hair said excited.

‘I heard the invaders had a blue glowing demon that ripped people apart,’ a young man, or rather a boy, contributed with more than a touch of awe in his voice.

‘And a crossbow that fired sulphur and poison.’

And then another voice piped up from the gloom and the smoke that hung low in the cramped room. ‘Did you know they threw the Head of the Seekers in the dungeons of the Holy Palace?’

Penrath pricked up his ears. This was getting interesting.

‘They wouldn’t!’ a few patrons chorused in shock.

‘No, they did. My brother in law is a warden over there; he told me. He saw it with his own eyes. I swear.’

‘And why would they do that if his own building was attacked, hmm?’ The heavy red-haired man snorted derisively. ‘Makes no sense.’

‘Maybe the Divine sent them herself. To teach him a lesson. Who knows what he’s been up to.’

‘And she would send a demon?? Don’t be such an idiot.’

The conversation soon bogged down in an endless discussion but Penrath had heard enough. Baron Villefranche, the vile bastard. Instead of being rewarded for hunting down and finishing off a dangerous apostate, he had been arrested – by fellow Templars no less – for raping the daughter. As if anyone would care for the brood of a renegade mage. But there he was, hauled to Val Royeaux and expelled from the Templar order by the same Villefranche who now, hopefully, was rotting in a cell. _Suits him well._ And at the same time that dirty she-mongrel turned up. This wasn’t a coincidence; it was a sign from heaven.

Pensively he took a sip from his ale while around him the discussions heated up. It wouldn’t be long before a fight broke out, so he stood and left the tavern. He had to make some careful inquiries, do a little investigation and think about how he could turn this to his advantage.

-

When they were out on the open see, Hawke got approached by Titia with, as always, Orana in tow. On their way to the docks they had picked the two of them up in the tavern where they had stayed all the while. By then they already had got the message that everything was alright, but Titia had deemed it wiser not to go to the Holy Palace to join them. Hawke had to admit that was prudent; the presence of a Tevinter mage could have tipped the balance.

‘Serah Hawke?’ Titia started a little uncertain. ‘I ... would like to ask you a favour.’

Marian looked up from the book she was reading. She was sitting on the deck with her back against a crate. Fenris was engaged in a game of wicked grace with the rest of the gang. She was still amused about the near fanatical way Wynne played the game; it seemed totally out of character and was certainly infectious. But this time she hadn’t felt like joining them. She had longed for some peace and quiet and thus she had snatched a book out of the captain’s cabin and had retreated to a relatively calm spot. Now she tossed the book aside and stood up. ‘What favour?’ she asked, sounding guarded but not unfriendly.

‘I’ve decided to take up on Wynne’s offer to become her apprentice,’ Titia began to explain. ‘But now I don’t know what to do with Orana. I don’t want to drag her along between the Circle and the Royal Court and I’m positive Vigil’s Keep isn’t the right place for her. Would you consider taking care of her?’

The small elf’s eyes grew wide. Hawke sighed. She and Fenris weren’t in need of a servant and she was sure her mother could cope with the help of Bodahn and Sandal, but she saw Titia’s point. That, however, wasn’t the reason for her sigh. ‘You haven’t discussed this with Orana before you came to me, did you?’

‘No, I ...’ Titia’s voice wavered when she saw Hawke’s stern look and comprehension dawned. ‘Well, yes, perhaps I should have done that.’

‘Old habits die hard,’ Hawke mumbled irritably. The Tevinter mage might have protected Orana as best as she could, and Marian valued that. She also understood, though, that to Titia the elf was still a slave and the Tevinter attitude didn’t allow conferring with slaves about their fate. She shot a bright smile at the elven girl. ‘What about it, Orana. Would you like to come with me to Kirkwall? You will live in a nice estate with my mother and two dwarves. I think you will like the youngest of the two; he is a bit odd but very friendly.’ After some contemplation, not really knowing what to say to put the elven girl at ease, she added, ‘He likes cinnamon buns.’

Orana looked up at her and gave her the tiniest of smiles. ‘I can make cinnamon buns,’ she whispered. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly an explosion of joy but it was actually the first time Hawke saw her smile.

‘Then I think the two of you will get along splendidly. Oh, and one more thing, Orana, we don’t put up with slavery so you will be a free girl. If you choose to be a part of my mother’s household, it will be as a paid servant.’

The small elf almost staggered back and clutched Titia’s robes so hard that for a moment Hawke was afraid she had said something totally wrong. ‘I’ll be ... free?’ she stammered as if she couldn’t completely grasp the meaning of the word.

‘Yes,’ Marian affirmed with a short look at Titia who at least had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

Orana started to shine. ‘I will come with you.’

And with that the matter was settled.

-

When they had arrived in Amaranthine and stood on the quay, except for Isabela who had ecstatically darted off to the _Chubby Mermaid_ with Zevran in her trail, Carver grabbed his sister’s hand. ‘I was hoping you would come with me and Sigrun to Vigil’s keep to be together one last night. All of you, I mean. To celebrate or something.’

‘Celebrate what exactly?’ she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

‘I don’t know. That we survived all the perils? Parting like this seems so sudden, so insensitive.’

Hawke threw a longing glance at the _Chubby Mermaid_ who could bring her straight back home but gave in. ‘Yes, that’s true. If the others agree we will come with you for a celebration or something,’ she said with a wink. In an impulse she hugged him. ‘After all, it won’t be likely I will see you soon after I return to Kirkwall.’

And a celebration it was. It looked more like a drinking-bout.

-

Hawke woke the next morning with a head that felt like the anvil in a very busy smithy and with a throat like a neglected sponge. She groaned. ‘Andraste’s tits, how much did I drink last night?’ She vaguely recalled a boisterous red-bearded dwarf who encouraged everyone to take another one. And another one. And after that some more. She hated him at this very moment and wished very hard she could throttle him. With a lot of effort she crawled out of what apparently was their bed although, for all her might, she couldn’t remember how she had ended up here, and managed to stand straight. Fenris lay spread-eagled and stark naked on the covers, completely knocked out. If she hadn’t felt this awful she would have laughed out loud. Now she was only in desperate need of a lot of cool water and heaps of fresh air. With some difficulty she put on her clothes, keeling over a few times, and stumbled out of the room. She had no idea what time it was but estimated it was still early in the morning, according to the grey light that seeped through the windows in the corridor. She must have slept just for a couple of hours. Ugh. What a wonderful day this promised to be. She found the kitchen that at this hour already was bustling with activity.

‘Good morning Serah Hawke!’ one of the maids called out far too jovially which made her cringe.

‘For the love of the Maker, give me some water,’ she grunted. Grinning, the maid handed her a tankard and she gulped down the water it held. Lovely cold sweet water. She had never tasted anything better. She went outside through the kitchen door that opened onto the vegetable garden and stuck her head in the water butt she came across. After that she took a few deep breaths of the cool morning air. Feeling a little better she wandered on to the sheds and stables.

Suddenly she heard a sound and stopped, frowning. There it was again: a seductive giggle, followed by a low snigger. She would have recognized that voice anywhere. A broad, wicked grin appeared on her face. _Payback time._ Slowly and oh so carefully she tiptoed along the wall of one of the outbuildings and peeped around the corner. The two persons, half hidden behind a bush, were only focused on each other and definitely weren’t aware of her presence. Time to remedy that. Hawke leant nonchalantly against the wall and crossed her arms.

‘Tsk, Varric. What would Bianca say if she saw you like this?’

Sigrun let out a shocked yelp and Varric grabbed his coat to cover them, staring at her in horror, for once at a total loss for words.

‘I’m thinking about an epic love story,’ Hawke said conversationally. Her smile was as sweet as honey, with a few stray bees stuck in it. ‘I have the title already: “The Impossible and Tragic Love between the Surviving Member of the Dead and the Dwarf with the Too Big Mouth”. A bit long maybe, I should work on that, but it covers the intention.’

Varric, of course, recognised his own teasing after their first encounter with Fenris but he still wasn’t able to utter even a syllable. He just opened and shut his mouth like a pathetically struggling fish.

‘I do hope you have taken precautions,’ Hawke continued mercilessly, ‘although I can’t wait to see the lovely witty baby –‘

‘Alright, alright, I get it!’ Varric cried out in despair.

Hawke unfolded her arms. With a little bow she said, ‘I’ll take my leave now; please don’t let me keep you from your, er, amorous exercises. But do know I’m already tremendously looking forward to the next time you’re going to wake Fenris and me up.’

She almost waltzed back to the Keep, considerably more cheery than when she left it. This was going to be a good day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

-

Nathaniel Howe stared at Marian with an unreadable look. Hawke still tried to stifle her giddiness about catching Varric and Sigrun in the act behind some barn in the vegetable garden; something the Commander never should know about. Let alone he should find out it had been the boost she’d needed to run to his office and ask him this blunt question.

With a hardly concealed sigh the Commander said, ‘Let me get this clear, Messere Hawke: you want me to give your brother leave of absence, just to accompany you to Kirkwall? After I already gave him permission to join you on some kind of secret and personal mission? How many boons are you planning to collect with nothing in exchange?’

Hawke shot him her most persuasive smile. ‘I admit I have not much to offer, unless I’d volunteer to become a Grey Warden, which I will not.’ Having dropped that statement, her smile broadened in the ultimate attempt to win him over. ‘Does it help if I tell you I love him very much and you will have my everlasting gratitude?’

The Commander cocked an intimidating eyebrow at her but despite that Hawke bravely soldiered on. This time she slapped on her most charming smile. ‘Let me first say I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart that you gave Carver permission to come with me. Because the expedition turned out to be quite a revelation; for the both of us. I was glad he was with me.’ _Except from the part where he planted his fist in my face. Although that wasn’t such a bad action, in hindsight._

Valiantly she continued, ‘And I can understand you are reluctant to comply with this new plea. But it would make our mother so happy just to embrace her only son one more time. And to see for herself he still lives and cares for her.’ She thought with a little twang of guilt, _Not to mention it would make my life a whole lot easier if he did. She will be enraged enough as it is about me staying away for such a long time with no message at all to let her know I’m alright._ ‘I’m sure _your_ mother would highly appreciate that,’ she threw in as some kind of a last charm attack, unfolding her most captivating beam.

Nathaniel Howe smiled thinly in response. ‘I highly doubt she would have,’ he murmured. He found he couldn’t resist this Marian Hawke, no matter how much he wished to. It was extremely hard to deny this woman anything she asked for. He tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk and came to a conclusion. ‘Very well, Messere Hawke, your brother can go with you. But he will stay in Kirkwall for just one week and not a day longer.’ He got almost blown away by the bright expression she graced him with and that seemed to light up every corner of his office. At this moment he understood completely why that strange taciturn Tevinter elf had fallen for her.

‘Thank you.’ She bowed with such a wide bright smile it nearly tore her face in two. In her relief she added, thoughtlessly, ‘And if it makes you feel any better, I’m positive there’s not a Blight on the brink of breaking out this very minute, or even in the near future.’ This brought back the memory of their encounter with the Architect. She tilted her head and looked pensively when she asked, without taking the consequences into consideration whatsoever, ‘Did you meet him? The Architect, I mean? Quite an interesting apparition, that one. Well, I thought so.’

Howe shot to attention. ‘Indeed I have. Are you saying you did as well?’

With a shock Hawke became aware of her slip of the tongue and made an effort to fix it with a casual wave of a hand. ‘Yes we have. I’ll tell you all about it, later.’

But this time Nathaniel Howe wasn’t so easily placated. ‘As the Commander of the Grey I have the right to know about any confrontations considering Darkspawn,’ he said, severely.

Hawke backed down somewhat. She felt the giddiness dissolve. It wouldn’t help her case if she frustrated him. On the other hand, she wasn’t willing to come out in the open about her father’s role either. Probably that would turn out to be even worse. But then she met his stern but open, honest and above all trustworthy eyes and suddenly she was convinced he wouldn’t hold the unsavoury affair against her, or against her brother. Nevertheless she tried, with a pleading note in her voice, ‘Perhaps it’s better if Sigrun brings out a report. That seems more appropriate.’

‘I want to hear it from you.’

Hawke fidgeted with her fingers. ‘I was afraid you would say that.’ _Why did you have to bring up the Architect? For once, just for once, could you please control your blather mouth? Remind me to never blame Carver again._ ‘Well, if you insist.’ Abruptly she sat down in the chair opposite the desk.

‘I do.’ A deep frown had appeared between Howe’s brows.

She took a deep breath and started to rattle off the tale. ‘My father was afraid my strong magic would become a danger to the world. To control it he needed two runes, which he invented himself, and the mythical metal amantium witch, apparently, can be found somewhere in the Deep Roads under the Frostback Mountains.’ She observed his perfectly blank face. ‘No comment thus far?’

Without twitching a muscle Nathaniel said, ‘We _are_ the Grey Wardens, Messere Hawke. The flotsam and jetsam of society, as some would say. We don’t shy away from dangerous mages; we use them to our advantage. And I believe you haven’t destroyed the world as yet. Please continue.’

‘Right.’ Hawke swallowed her anxiety back and went on. Absentmindedly she thought this Nathaniel Howe was even worse than the Divine. Back in Minrathous, Justinia the Fifth had, at least, shown some consideration. This man showed nothing at all. Due to her stupid remark she had turned herself into some kind of target and she found herself wriggling like bait on a hook. She looked down and forced her fingers to stop fiddling and her mind to calm down. He wouldn’t devour her. Nevertheless she sounded rather stressed when she said, ‘When he searched for the mine in the Deep Roads, my father met the Architect and they decided to help each other. The Architect would tell him the location of the mine holding that infamous metal, my father would help him with his “Brethren” problem. Sadly, my father was the one who came up with the idea of using the blood of Grey Wardens to make the Darkspawn, er, intelligent. You know what ensued. In a way my father caused the fifth blight.’

She realised it wasn’t only the Commander’s blank face that brought her off balance. The sheer memory did a good job as well. Stubbornly she kept looking at her still entangled fingers, waiting for his outburst. That never came.

Howe’s expression didn’t change. You could mostly say his face petrified around it. After a long silence he said, ‘That must have been a harsh blow. For you and your brother.’

Surprised Marian looked up. She hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. She got even more surprised when she caught his small, sad smile. ‘I know how it feels when your father, the man you always adored and looked up to, turns out be a – well, monster isn’t the accurate word in this case, I suppose. At least _your_ father had the intention to do well.’

‘I very hard try to believe that,’ Marian mumbled, hugely taken aback.

‘Even more the reason to give Carver Hawke some time off,’ Nathaniel Howe said with a sudden bright, though somewhat forced smile. ‘To reset his mind, as it were. But, as I said, only for a week in Kirkwall and the time it takes to travel there and back. And you can tell Sigrun I expect a full report as soon as possible.’

Marian recuperated very fast at his last words and grinned mischievously. ‘I will. That is, the moment she’s able to listen.’

She jumped up, rounded the desk and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

And at that she whirled out of the room.

The office seemed suddenly very empty and cold without her presence.

-

 When Marian re-entered the bedroom, Fenris was just starting to wake. Slowly he sat up, wincing, and grabbed his head with both hands. ‘I am going to kill that dwarf,’ he groaned.

‘I know exactly how you feel,’ Hawke said, empathizing, and at the same time badly stifling a grin.

The elf cracked one eye open to glare at her. ‘And yet you manage to look as radiant as ever,’ he grumbled accusingly.

‘That has a reason,’ said Hawke, while she handed him a cup with water which he accepted gratefully. ‘Believe me, I felt exactly the same as you, not an hour ago. But that was before I had a very – interesting encounter with another dwarf. With two of them, actually.’

He looked expectantly at her and cheerfully she told him the saucy story, larded with bouts of giggles. ‘Such a pity Isabela and Zevran decided to stay on the _Chubby Mermaid_ ,’ she ended. ‘Oh, how they would have enjoyed this!’

Fenris looked incredulously at her and despite his throbbing headache he started to laugh. ‘I must say, this is a wonderful cure against a hangover.’ He took a gulp of the water and groaned appreciatively. ‘And what’s more important,’ he continued, ‘I suppose it means the end of trespassing on our private life. You gained a potent weapon, my lady.’ He emptied the cup, climbed out of bed and went in search for some clothes to put on.

Marian leant against the table that held an ewer and a washbasin and watched him. She thought she would never tire of seeing him perform such a simple and at the same time intimate act as getting dressed. Halfway he sensed her look and stopped hesitantly in the middle of dragging his shirt down his abdomen. ‘Something wrong?’

‘You’re beautiful,’ Marian said dreamily. ‘I’m simply enjoying the show. I bet no-one in Thedas is able to put on his clothes in such a sexy and elegant way as you do.’

Fenris tilted one brow in that special way that almost made her swoon. ‘Really? I assumed you’d like it better when I take them off.’ He finished, reluctantly after her words, the simple act of putting on his shirt. He fidgeted with the hem, not knowing how to proceed.

‘You have a valid point,’ Marian chuckled, completely unaware of his uncertainty. ‘But I just love to see you move. The way your muscles ripple ... it gives me goosebumps. It’s a wonderful sight to behold. I am a very lucky girl.’

Touched by her words, he walked over to her and took her in his arms. ‘I take it that’s a good thing,’ he said while he pulled her close. She still caught him off hand when she said things like that, especially because he knew it wasn’t meant as some kind of flirty remark.

‘Oh, definitely,’ she murmured against his shoulder, settling deeper in his arms. ‘It’s a pity you can’t see it yourself.’

He nuzzled her neck and planted a soft kiss on her skin. ‘I’m just glad _you_ can still see it. And enjoy it,’ he whispered.

After the awful occurrences in Val Royeaux, he had become even more protective, although he did his utter best not to show it. The last thing he wanted was to burden her with the bouts of panic which woke him up in the middle of the night and had replaced his usual nightmares. What had happened to her, had strengthened their bond even more, because they had gone through the same agony. Because he had completely understood what she had suffered, and because she had experienced what had cost his loss of memory. But at the same time it had shaken him badly. Just the thought she had been forced to undergo such tortures was enough to give him sleepless nights. The dreadful assumption he had lost her, at that horrible moment he had found out what had been done to her, had taken root in his mind and pursued his every waking hour. His fear had been far more real than back in the Deep Roads, when she got struck by the Rock Wraith. But he had to learn to cope with it, for he didn’t want to suffocate her.

He got startled by her voice.

‘I could say: “A penny for your thoughts” but that would be a waste of money.’

‘How that so?’ He tried to sound light-hearted but he knew he didn’t.

Marian heaved her head and cupped his face with her hands. ‘Do you think I don’t notice how you fret about me? And, worse, wake up with a start at least three times a night?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, ‘I never intended to disturb your peace.’

‘Sorry?’ said Marian, aggravated. ‘ _You’re_ sorry?!’ Lightly she tapped his cheek. ‘Don’t ever say that again. If anyone doesn’t have to feel sorry, it’s you.’

‘I wish I could have prevented it all.’ Fenris said miserably. His breath went laboured. ‘And I’m afraid my urge of wanting to protect you has only increased. I’m very hard attempting to rein that in, though. I can hardly lock you up in a golden cage.’

Marian chortled, ardently trying to ignore the note of self flagellation she noticed. ‘You would have a hard time doing so. I may not be an artist like Zevran, but my lock picking ability is still rather good.’ She became serious again. The careless tone could only go that far. She wouldn’t fool him, or herself. And she wanted to be honest. ‘The reason I know about your nocturnal restlessness is that I have a hard time at sleeping as well.’ She suppressed a shudder. ‘Perhaps we should better talk during those dark hours, instead of attempting not to worry each other. After all, it _has_ been a trying experience. It will take some time to come to terms with it.’ She kissed him tenderly. ‘There’s no shame in feeling distressed.’

‘And even so, you fail to let me know you lay awake.’

That touched a nerve.

She made a face. ‘I so very much hoped you wouldn’t come up with that. Caught in my own wise words!’

With a warm smile Fenris said, ‘I believe I once said that knowing is one thing, but following the wisdom is something completely different. But I promise I’ll wake you up, if you promise to do the same.’

‘That’s a deal,’ she agreed. After a short silence she added, ‘I hope that you don’t confuse protective with possessive, like you once did?’

Fenris already opened his mouth but shut it immediately. This took some self-contemplation. But then he realised he didn’t have to think about it. What he felt had nothing to do with that repulsive word with which Anders had tried to hurt him. It had nothing to do with possession. He knew that by now. He loved her. He didn’t want to lose her. Thus he wanted to protect her. There was no shame in that.

‘No. I don’t.’ A little twinkle appeared in his eyes. ‘Besides, weren’t you the one who told me there was nothing wrong with a little possessiveness? Something about Isabela and the colour of my underwear?’

Marian laughed, feeling relieved. Happily she said, ‘I still can’t believe she never thought of the possibility of owning several pairs in different colours! How short-minded our Pirate Queen can be!’

‘I’m convinced she thought I didn’t wear any underpants at all.’

‘Yeah, right. She wished!’

Somehow it broke the wall of worries.

Fenris embraced her hard. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he hadn’t even been aware it had been this heavy, until now. He took a deep breath. ‘I’m glad we had this talk.’

‘As am I,’ she agreed. She bit back tears because this wasn’t the moment to break down. She settled with tenderly kissing him. ‘Now, let’s go looking for some breakfast. I can’t wait to see Varric’s face.’

That brought him back to the merry story she had woke him up with. He grinned mischievously. ‘If he has the courage to show himself.’

-

But Varric might be a lot of things, he wasn’t a coward and so he was present at the breakfast table. Although he fervently tried to hide behind his mug of ale. As always Sigrun’s expression was as good as impossible to define, but Hawke thought she saw the dwarf’s eyes flicker with amusement. Apparently she wasn’t put out at all with the situation.

‘Okay, elf, spit it out,’ Varric finally grumbled. ‘Start gloating. I know you want to.’

Fenris lifted a corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. ‘I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said innocently while he reached for a jug with orange juice. ‘By the way, where is Ser Pounce-a-Lot? I missed the little furry villain this morning, and most of all I missed his attempts to rip the skin off my face. But perhaps he has escaped your attention, since you were, how shall I put it, ah yes, otherwise occupied. Or, of course, it could be he was too busy with hunting mice.’

Varric grumbled something untranslatable under his breath and Hawke swore she saw him blush. But before she could remark on it, the dwarf was saved by the young tabby tomcat, that chose that exact moment to make its entrance. Ser Pounce-a-Lot sauntered straight to Fenris’s chair, circled, loud purring and with a merrily put up tail, a few times around the elf’s legs before he jumped on his lap and nestled there with a contented sigh.

‘Speaking of the devil,’ Sigrun grinned.

‘A very adorable devil,’ Hawke reacted, again mesmerized by how the cat radiated its affection for Fenris. ‘It really is a pity we cannot take him with us.’

Shortly after, Carver strode into the room and flopped in the vacant chair next to his sister. ‘I just received the strangest order in my life. The Warden Commander instructed me to be nice to my mother. Care to explain?’

Oops.

 _Perhaps I should have discussed the topic with him, before I arranged the whole thing without him knowing about it,_ Hawke thought _. Now he really has a reason to be angry with me_. _Let’s face it, I would be furious if_ _somebody went behind my back_.

‘I apologize,’ she said meekly. ‘I should have conferred with you before my drastic action, should have asked you if you wanted this in the first place. I just assumed you would like to come to Kirkwall with us. To see Mother again. And Merrill, of course, and the others. I, er ... would you buy it if I said I meant it as a surprise? Because, honest, that’s the truth. Sorry again.’

But to her amazement Carver shook his head, grinning. ‘Don’t pull your hair out, Marian. I’ve decided not to wail about wandering in your shadow any longer. As a Grey Warden I don’t have to, anyway. Besides that, I really am looking forward to seeing Mother. And Merrill and the others,’ he added hastily, vainly trying not to change colour.

Hawke felt highly relieved. ‘Thanks for not punching me in the face again.’

Instead he punched her arm. Because that’s what brothers were supposed to do. Especially after such a challenge. After taken in her satisfying exasperating squeal, he nodded at Ser Pounce-a-Lot, who was still purring loudly.

‘I hope you don’t intend to steal the Keep’s mascot?’

‘We wouldn’t dare,’ Marian breathed, rubbing her arm. Secretly she wondered why Carver had to show his affection by hitting her. The clumsy squirt. ‘Besides, there must be some-one to keep an eye on you.’  She turned to the tattooed dwarf. ‘Before I forget, Sigrun, I more or less promised Nathaniel Howe you’ll give him a full report of our endeavour. That is, when you’re up to it,’ she couldn’t help saying. She heard Varric groan in dismay. ‘Don’t worry about the Architect and my father’s part in the story. I already told him about that and he didn’t even yell at me.’

Sigrun dipped a piece of bread in her mug of coffee and shrugged. ‘I would have been surprised if he had. You do know about _his_ father’s crimes, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes,’ Marian said hesitantly. ‘But I don’t think that starting a civil war is the same as starting a Blight.’

‘To the King and Queen it _is_ the same, believe me,’ Sigrun replied, convincingly. ‘After all, he murdered Elissa Cousland’s whole family. And that was just one of his horrible deeds. For a long time the Commander wasn’t very pleased with being a Howe. I think he still isn’t.’ She grimaced. ‘He should be glad he isn’t a dwarf; he’d have ended up in the Legion of the Dead to pay for his father’s actions.’ She took a bite, or rather a slurp, from her soaked bread. ‘Can I ask you a favour?’

‘Shoot,’ Marian said, feeling generously.

‘I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t blab about what you witnessed this morning..?’

Right away Carver sat straight, the bread roll in his hand forgotten. ‘About what? What did you witness?’ he asked eagerly.

Varric let out a frustrated shout. ‘You did that on purpose!’ he cried reproachfully.

‘Of course I did,’ Sigrun chortled gleefully. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re nagging about. We didn’t exactly commit the crime of the century!’

‘That’s because you don’t know how much those two will let me suffer for it!

‘After all your comments and intrusions, it’s nothing less than you deserve,’ Marian said determinedly.

‘Wait,’ Carver interfered with shining eyes, ‘you don’t say that Varric and Sigrun ... Really?! Together?’

‘It _takes_ two, so I’ve heard.,’ Marian said, deadpan. ‘And sometimes more, if I comprehend well Isabela’s colourful stories.’

Carver burst out laughing. ‘Yes, of course!’ Impatiently he fluttered the hand that didn’t hold the bread roll. ‘But I mean, how did you find out?!’

‘I took an early morning walk,’ his sister explained. ‘I can recommend it. It can lead to unexpected surprises.’

Varric’s gaze darted between her, Sigrun. Carver and Fenris. He gave in. ‘You are impossible,’ he groused. ‘All of you.’

‘As are you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Sigrun concluded.

Varric could only smirk at that. ‘I always said you were too witty to be dead, Cheeryface.’

-

Later that day they stood in the courtyard of the Keep to say their farewells to Wynne, Titia and Sigrun. As usual Titia didn’t say much. She merely gave them a polite nod and a shadow of a smile. Orana was standing next to her, looking insecure. Titia gave the small elf a gentle push. ‘Off you go now,’ she said, somewhat awkwardly. It was obvious she didn’t know how to manage this, for her, alien situation. ‘You’re no longer my sla-, uh, servant. From now on you belong to, I mean _with_ Messere Hawke.’

Marian heard Fenris snort disdainfully but he withheld from further comment. She imagined he didn’t want to upset Orana with a snappy remark and was grateful for it. The young elf already looked as dismal as it was. In fact, the same counted for the Tevinter mage who, in her opinion, didn’t deserve a sneer. Marian thought about the trouble she had had with adapting to Kirkwall. That had been bad enough. And for someone from Tevinter it had to be even worse to be away from the world she was used to. With so many other rules and customs. The dissimilarities were almost too big to overcome. She reckoned that counted for the both of them. And, besides that, Titia had saved Orana’s life and had been nothing but friendly to her ever since. Hawke couldn’t bring herself to dislike her, Tevinter mage or not. But she could understand Fenris thought differently and she couldn’t blame him for it. He was still struggling with his past.

She smiled encouragingly and reached out her hand to the girl. Timidly Orana changed position and immediately slipped behind her back. Undoubtedly, Marian suspected, she instantly missed the comfort of the robes she had got used to hold on to. Marian hoped her mother would accept a jumpy young elven girl who would literally hang onto her skirts. But, on the other hand, it could well be she would be taken away with her. Having Orana around was like dealing with a child and Leandra had complained enough about her children growing up too fast. It would all turn out well.

Sigrun hauled her out of her musings. ‘I have to admit, I will miss all of you,’ she said. ‘It was fun to be not a Grey Warden for a while. Say hello to Anders for me.’

‘I will certainly tell him how his cat has taken a shine to Fenris,’ said Varric with his old aplomb. ‘He will like that very much, I’m sure.’

The last one to say goodbye was Wynne. She laid a hand on Marian’s arm. ‘I’m relieved we all survived, especially you, Serah Hawke. I must say, it has been an exciting ride. I think I will be content with the boring life at court for quite a while now. But it was worth it. I hope you think the same.’

Fenris amazed them all when he suddenly stepped forward and embraced her. ‘Thank you for everything,’ he simply said.

Wynne gave him a warm smile. ‘Like I said, it was worth it.’

And then they went on their way to Amaranthine where they would join Isabela and Zevran on board the _Chubby Mermaid_. Varric grumbled he was enormously looking forward to it.

-

They stood all on deck when they sailed between the two giant rocks into Kirkwall’s harbour.

‘They should take down those horrible statues,’ said Carver out of the sudden, indicating the large bronze figures chained to the stone. ‘It’s not exactly a pleased-to-see-you. It’s more like a last warning.’

‘And an insult to boot,’ Marian agreed. ‘Just like the ones in the Gallows. They appalled me the first time I saw them and they still give me the creeps.’

‘The famed intimidation of the Tevinter Imperium,’ Fenris stated. He remembered how shocked he had been when he got confronted with the Imperium’s blunt legacy while he was putting all his efforts in getting away from it. He felt Marian’s hand slip in his and didn’t doubt for a second she knew what he felt. To his surprise Zevran reacted the most heated. But then he remembered the Antivan elf had been some sort of slave as well, for a great deal of his life.

‘I think it’s by large the most atrocious feature of this city. It denies freedom and encourages fear and oppression. It says a lot about the rulers of this city that they up till this day still haven’t removed this part of her history.’ And then his face lighted up. ‘But, my beautiful Marian, isn’t it true that you have risen through the ranks? Thanks to you the Lady Amell has succeeded in getting her estate back. Perhaps you can put your new influence to good use and persuade the Viscount he should solve this problem, no?’

Marian laughed. ‘You raise an interesting point. But please keep in mind that not Marlowe Dumar but Meredith Stannard is the real power in this city. And I have the nasty suspicion she all but likes to intimidate the mages that scuttle around the Gallows courtyard with those sinister statues.’

‘You could at least press Dumar to destroy the ones that bid you such a warm welcome,’ Zevran persevered. ‘Just put forward it’s bad for commerce.’

‘I will remember that,’ Marian giggled. ‘Very clever!’ Then she narrowed her eyes. ‘Am I going crazy, or is that really Aveline standing there, waving her arms like there’s no tomorrow?’

At the same time Isabela shouted from her position at the steering wheel. ‘Ahoy, Captain Man Hands! Good to see you again!’

‘So, I suppose I’m not going delusional,’ Marian mumbled. ‘What the hell is she doing here? How did she know we’d arrive today?’ With growing dread she wondered what had gone wrong during their absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading my scribbles!


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought to finish the story with an extensive love scene. With other words: lots of sex.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 44

-

‘Gods, am I glad to see you,’ Aveline cried out the moment they jumped from board. ‘What took you so long?! I don’t think I could have coped with your mother for one day more!’

Despite Aveline’s words and the despondent expression that went with it, Hawke allowed herself a breath of relief. The moment she had spotted her friend standing on the quay, she had expected much worse. She hadn’t gone as far as to imagine what precisely could have gone wrong, but, for a stressed moment, a bunch of frustrated Qunari going for total destruction had tramped through her mind. ‘I should have sent a letter,’ she said remorsefully, ‘or maybe two. I know. You can start shouting at me now.’

But Aveline stuck with sternly slapping her shoulder, although the simple act couldn’t hide her fondness for the other woman. She grimaced contritely, being aware of the impact of her words. ‘I certainly should. But I’m too pleased you’re back.’

‘How did you know we would arrive today?’

‘I didn’t. I just happened to be here. Pure coincidence. Meredith summoned me today. And after our, er, talk, to put it civilized, I felt a huge urge to clear my head. So, I took a long walk and ended up here.’

Hawke felt her blood run cold. For, besides the Qunari losing their temper, there was always the dire possibility of the Knight-Commander going on a rampage to round up Kirkwall’s mages. ‘What? Why did she summon you?!’

‘The usual.’ Dismissively Aveline waved her hand. ‘She wanted to make sure we didn’t overlook any form of blood magic and weren’t hiding mages behind her majesty’s back. The way she stood barking at me, it suddenly became very appealing to do exactly that. But I can handle it.’ She grimaced sourly. ‘Your mother, however, is a whole different kettle of fish.’

Hawke groaned. ‘Let me guess; she’s been pestering you day after day with nagging about my absence and no message whatsoever.’

‘That too,’ the Guard-Captain nodded with a pained expression. ‘But what’s worse, she constantly draws me into her plans of restyling the Amell Estate and along the way she’s obsessively trying to turn me into some kind of high society lady. When she learned about how I had to flee Orlais and, Maker bless, never had a debut ball, she threatened to organize one for me. She even forced me to take dancing-lessons!’

Hawke struggled to suppress a snigger.

Beside her, Zevran bowed elegantly and said, ‘I think you’d look ravishing on the dance floor, bellissima donna.’

Aveline threw him a murderous look. ‘Obviously you’ve never seen me in a ball gown, squashing the toes of my partner.’ And then her look fell upon Carver. ‘What the hell are _you_ doing here?’ No doubt it sounded much more hostile than she intended to.

‘Ask my sister, she arranged it.’

But whereas those words in the past permanently went hand in hand with a generous dollop of grumpiness, Carver now sounded like a loving and devoted brother. It was a role he had only recently adopted and it was clear Aveline had troubles with getting her mind around it. She glared suspiciously at him. Not knowing how to react to this unexpected change of character, she turned to the others.

‘Welcome back,’ she said with a forced smile. ‘And please, Hawke, don’t stick around in the Hanged Man but go straight home, like a good girl. For your sake as well as mine. There will be time enough to tell me what you’ve been on about later.’

-

Prepared for anything, Marian took a deep breath before she opened the door to the estate. She felt the support of Fenris and Carver at her back. And of Varric’s, although she doubted the dwarf would offer her any support at all at this difficult moment. She was almost certain he had just come with them to accurately put a decent end to the incredible journey they had been through. And, besides that, she suspected him of hoping for a major scene. Isabela and Zevran had scuttled off to the Hanged Man to avoid the confrontation and she couldn’t blame them.

But perhaps she didn’t do her precious dwarf justice with her point of view. After all, he was her best friend, whatever had happened. She knew she could blindly rely on him; he would defend her as fiercely as Fenris did. As a matter of fact, he had done just that and she would do the same for him. So, it could very well be he _was_ here to support her. She afforded herself a little smile before stepping into the hallway.

Immediately she stumbled upon her mother’s industrious endeavours. On the floor lay an expensive silk carpet and against the walls stood elegant marble tables that proudly sported delicate china vases, which definitely hadn’t been there when they had cleaned out the premises and got rid of the slavers. It was obvious her mother wanted to restore the house into its former splendour, now she had returned into the bosom of Kirkwall’s nobility. Cautiously Hawke ventured into the parlour that gave even more evidence of her mother’s intensions. There was a not to misunderstand display of several priceless pieces of heirloom, probably dug up from the cellar or dragged from the attic and scrupulously polished. Tasteful velvet drapes graced the spotless windows.

‘Lady Amell has spared no means to show that the family is back in town, hasn’t she,’ Varric mumbled, impressed.

Marian stood still gaping at the costly refurbishing when a sudden ruckus broke out.

Her marbari Alrond almost slipped on the assiduously scrubbed tiles in his effort to pounce upon her, loudly barking and yapping and trying not only to wag his tail but his whole body, while he attacked her with all the affection he could muster. From the corner of her eye Hawke saw Orana go rigid and recoil in fear and panic, but also how Fenris took the small elf’s hand in a reassuring grip. Normally Orana would recoil from him as well, but this time she tried to dissolve into his armour. It only emphasised how the dog frightened her. Marian felt sorry about it, but there was little she could do to temper Alrond’s fervour to demonstrate his love for her.

‘Don’t be afraid. He is just an overenthusiastic puppy,’ she heard Fenris explain in a tender, comforting tone, as if Orana were his own child. While she tried to cope with the dog, she wondered how much more she could love him. ‘He has missed his mistress for too long. He will never do any harm, unless she instructs him to.’

Orana relaxed a little and even conjured up a tiny smile.

‘Ow, boy, back down!’ Marian laughed and playfully slapped Alrond’s broad back. ‘You’re scaring Orana. But I’m glad to see you too!’

Next she noticed Sandal who was merrily jumping up and down and clapping his hands. ‘Enchantment!’ he cried out repeatedly, but by now she didn’t feel disturbed by his exclaims anymore. _I should have let him take a look at the ring before this whole ordeal started,_ she thought, _perhaps I will yet. Maker know what he will find out._

Out of the sudden the young dwarf fell quiet when he noticed Orana, who was still anxiously holding Fenris’s hand and every piece of his armour she could hang on to. ‘He is a good doggy,’ the young dwarf said and a bright grin appeared upon his face. ‘You want to pat him?’

Hawke was astounded. This was the first time she heard the strange boy say anything else that “enchantment” or “cinnamon buns”.

Orana just nodded. Hesitantly she let go of Fenris’s body and guardedly touched the war hound that was clever and gracious enough to lie down on his back and let the small elf have her way.

‘Messere!’

The next to greet her was Bodahn but he got instantly overruled by her mother who steamed into the parlour like a warship ready for a serious assault.

‘There you are at last!’ she cried out angrily. ‘Have you any idea how much I was concerned about your welfare, how scared I have been –‘

She stopped abruptly when Marian just took a step aside and revealed the presence of her brother.

‘Carver?’ Leandra whispered in disbelief. All her worked-up fury forgotten in one go, she rushed forward to embrace her son.

Now more than ever Hawke was secretly happy with her half-drunk impulse to run to Nathaniel Howe. Not only to steer away her mother’s wrath from her, but also to see her genuinely smile for the first time since the fall of Lothering.

And of course they had to stay for lunch and tell all the stories of their adventures. ‘I insist on it,’ Leandra forestalled eventual protests.

Leandra didn’t object to including Orana in her household, which didn’t amaze Hawke. They might quarrel about a lot of things but Marian knew her mother was not one to look down upon other species. It was obvious she valued her dwarven servants, she even treated them as if they were part of the family, and the humiliating term “knife ear” had never crossed her lips. She might be noble bred and had been taught elves were inferior, but Marian was certain her mother had never shared that prejudice.

Oh yes, she hadn’t treated Fenris in a very polite way, but that had nothing to do with prejudice; she had just wanted her only surviving daughter to have an easy life by marrying some kind of noble with status and a lot of money. Without doubt falling in love and running off with an apostate mage had given her a huge inkling about bigotry.

She immediately accepted the small elf and tried to make her feel at home, while she started organizing the lunch. But it was Sandal who managed to put Orana at ease by simply dragging her to the kitchen. It didn’t take long before the mouth-watering smell of cinnamon buns started wafting through the house.

Leandra managed to keep them far longer in her estate than they had intended to in the first place. But finally they broke free with several excuses, promising they would return the next day.

-

‘And now we’re going to the Hanged Man,’ Varric said determinedly when they stood outside.

‘No,’ Fenris said, with even more determination, ‘ _now_ Marian and I are going to our mansion.’

Varric wagged a finger at him. ‘No way. We still have a wager going on, lest you forgot? I want to know how that conundrum turns out and I want you to be present. Come on.’

Knowing they couldn’t wriggle their way out of this, Marian grunted wholeheartedly. ‘I give you one hour, understood? One hour and not a minute more.’

‘That’s all I need,’ the dwarf agreed.

Fenris wasn’t happy at all. ‘I really don’t see why we’re bothering with this,’ he complained. ‘What’s the point? They’re probably in Isabela’s room anyway.’

‘Doing things you want to do,’ Varric said, bluntly. ‘But if so, I won’t hesitate to drag them downstairs. I want to know what’s going on.’

Carver hesitated. ‘You go ahead. I have, er, I’ve an errant to run. I’ll join you later.’ And he marched off without any other explanation, radiating resolute resolve and huge insecurity at the same time.

His sister wasn’t fooled.

‘Don’t forget the flowers!’ Hawke yelled after him and he gave her a very rude gesture over his shoulder in return.

‘Good to see that, at least in some way, he hasn’t changed,’ Varric commented.

‘Let’s hope he’ll get what he’s hoping for,’ said Marian.

‘I don’t doubt he will,’ Fenris smiled.

-

Merrill was at work in her small kitchen. For once she had let her mirror alone, since the blasted device drove her nuts by just sitting there numbly without any reaction whatsoever, despite all her efforts to make it respond. She needed a change before she would heed Anders’s plea and destroy the infuriating thing in a fit of uncontrollable anger. She stood at the counter, with mortar and pestle crushing the fragrant herbs she wanted to use to make soap. Nowadays she could buy as many bars of soap as she wanted in the market, but she’d found the work soothing and very satisfying. It had turned into a kind of hobby.

 She was softly humming an old Dalish song when she heard a silent rumour at the entrance and frowned slightly. It was highly unlikely Templars would burst into her shack just like that, besides the fact they would make far more noise. As unlikely as it was that robbers would enter the Alienage because there was nothing to steal. And she was not used to unexpected visitors. She turned around.

Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pestle which fell on the floor with a low thud.

‘Hello Merrill,’ Carver said. He stretched out his hand and offered her a bouquet of lovely wildflowers. ‘I was wondering if you would like to go on a picnic with me.’

Merrill stared from him to the flowers and back. A happy smile blossomed on her face. ‘Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.’

They met in the middle of the kitchen. Carver embraced her and they kissed.

After that things became hazy.

-

To their surprise they found Isabela and Zevran in the taproom. In the company of Anders, no less.

‘Look who we discovered!’ the pirate queen cheerfully cried out to them. ‘A poor, lonesome mage, drinking all by himself. And not even water this time!’ She tutted at him. ‘Justice won’t be pleased, I bet.’

Anders’s eyes lighted up at the sight of Hawke and darkened even quicker when he spotted Fenris at her side. He looked away and lifted his mug. ‘I thought you’d be fighting like cats and dogs by now,’ he grumbled in his ale. It was obvious he had anticipated their relation to come to a disruptive and screeching halt. Probably he hadn’t expected Fenris to come back at all. Or at least he had hoped so.

‘I’d be shocked if you hadn’t,’ Fenris replied mildly. At the same time he realised he’d have given a much snarkier answer a few months back. But that was before all the changes he had gone through during their journey. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even annoyed to meet Anders here. Why should he be? The mage had never been his opponent. By now he knew he himself had been his worst enemy. But he had conquered so many of his fears and insecurities over the past time, that Anders didn’t seem more than a grain of sand, compared to the rough rocks he had had to overcome. Without thinking he rested his hand on the small of Marian’s back, the woman who had put her trust in him and had lifted so many of the dark veils that had blinded his view on life.

‘Please, don’t start about Ser Pounce-a-Lot,’ he heard her whisper and with some difficulty he bit back a hearty laugh.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered back. ‘It’s cruel to kick a puppy.’ He couldn’t help grinning at her astonished expression.

Hawke cleared her throat to mask her bewilderment. ‘Hello Anders,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘Is it?’ was the tersely retort. But then Anders sat straight and smiled at her. Apparently he had decided to drop the act of the whipped dog. ‘You took a damn long time! What the hell happened?’

Hawke pulled out a wobbly chair and carefully lowered herself on it. ‘A lot. Too much. But perhaps we better save the stories for another day.’

At the same moment Varric returned from his trip to the counter and his little chat with Corff. ‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ he said while he handed out mugs of ale and a glass of wine for Fenris. ‘Top of the day to you, Anders. Good to see you’ve told your petulant tenant who’s the boss. Here, have another one on me.’ He sat down next to the mage and beamed at Isabela and Zevran at the other side of the table. ‘To be honest, I had already planned on interrupting your activities upstairs. On the other hand, we _have_ been absent for quite a longer time than I had calculated, due to Lady Amell’s good care. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to carry out your sinful deeds.’ He paused a few seconds before he launched his attack. ‘Any plans for the future, Honey-boy?’

The Antivan ex-Crow smiled generously. ‘I see you worry about your money, my dear Story Weaver.’ Varric’s innocent beam dropped a little. Zevran put a hand on Isabela’s wrist. ‘To make things clear, we’ve decided to each go our separate way.’ He moved to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. ‘But that doesn’t mean we won’t meet again, somewhere, sometime, mia bellezza.’

‘Preferably somewhere hot and steamy,’ Isabela giggled.

Varric looked crestfallen. ‘But I was certain...’ he murmured, visibly disappointed.

Hawke sighed and gave the two lovers a sad smile. ‘I didn’t keep count, but whatever the case, Varric owns me a lot of money. To be honest, I wished he didn’t. I’ll miss you. The both of you. I suppose you’ll be roaming the seas in your new ship for the time to come?’

Isabela shrugged. ‘At least for a while. The Chubby Mermaid isn’t exactly my dream come true but for the time being she’ll do. And it would be too soon to leave my crew to fence for themselves.’ Her face suddenly glowed with pride. ‘Although, I’ve made some damn good pirates out of them!’

Marian couldn’t help grinning. ‘You certainly did.’

‘But I’ll be back, don’t worry about that. I’d miss you too much. We’ve been through to many great times together.’

Hawke could swear she saw her blinking back tears.

And then Fenris stood up. ‘I take it you won’t leave tomorrow?’

‘No, my friend,’ Zevran said. (Contrary to the first time they met, Fenris now had to smile at the honorific.) ‘That would be too abrupt.’

‘I wouldn’t count on your money yet, Hawke,’ Varric hissed from the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t that easily defeated.

‘So there will be enough chances to say goodbye.’ Fenris touched Marian’s shoulder. ‘I want to go home. Care to come with me?’

Without thinking she jumped up from her chair. ‘Gladly.’

He took her hand in his and together they left the Hanged Man.

 -

The moment they closed the door to Fenris’s mansion Hawke let out a big sigh. ‘Finally alone.’ She didn’t get the chance to say more, because Fenris pushed her against the wall and crashed his lips on hers, hungrily plundering her mouth. He almost mangled her between the stones of the wall and the steel of his breastplate while his tongue sensually stroked hers and his arms held her in a strong grip. A hot bolt shot to her centre.

‘Take. That. Bloody. Thing. Off.’ she ordered him when she was able to take a breath, weakly pummelling the cold metal. But he had already dropped his gauntlets and was busy undoing the clasps of her armour. So she started struggling with his breastplate herself and managed to remove the offending item while they were more or less tripped up, crossing the hall. Just before the monumental, though decaying stairway, she had removed his too sharp pauldrons and tossed them away. Halfway the stairs she had him out off his shirt and he had shredded her tunic and breast band.

‘Boots,’ she panted. They staggered over the last step and went down on the landing. Along their fall Marian succeeded to rip Fenris’s leggings and underwear down his legs, revelling in his hard cock that sprang free. He tugged impatiently at her boots and pants while she broke the fastening of her belt in her haste to open it. After he had the job done, he stumbled on his feet and scooped her up. She threw her arms around him and they got again entangled in a frenzied kiss. He carried her into their room and realized he wouldn’t make it to the bed. Too far away for his burning desire. He sat her on the table he passed along the way and wrecked her smalls in one heated move, throwing the torn fabric aside. With a desperate thrust he pushed deep inside her, making her shout out his name. She wrapped her legs around him, driving him even deeper. He felt his release building fast although he tried to put it off but when her walls clamped around him he couldn’t withhold and with a muffled cry he emptied himself in her.

‘Bloody hell,’ he heard her murmur, ‘but I needed this.’ He laughed in her hair. Rosemary. He had to buy that aroma, he missed the smell. He wanted to bathe her in a steaming bathtub full of rosemary scented oil or soap or the herb itself, or better all of it. He wanted to bathe _with_ her. To feel her hot wet body sliding against his, drenched in that exquisite perfume. Preferably mixed with that of her arousal. The perfect bouquet.

She took his face in both hands. ‘Don’t you dare to think we are done yet.’

He rested his forehead against hers and looked in her sparkling sapphire eyes. ‘I would be very disappointed if we were.’ He smiled broadly. ‘But allow me to lay you down on our bed and get some wine to make our welcome home even more pleasurable.’ He slowly moved out of her and lifted her from the table. He postponed the bath, it would take too long. Wine was easier. Faster. Besides that, he would have something to look forward to. After the prospect of devouring her in the most marvellous ways. O yes, this day was going to be so wonderful.

When he returned from the cellar with what definitely was the last bottle of the Aggrigio Parvali, quite astonished he had apparently overlooked this one before, she lay languidly stretched on the covers of the bed. Her elbow was leaning on the mattress, her head resting in her hand. Her legs were crossed at her ankles, her honey blond hair was cascading over her back and she had covered her breasts and lower body seemingly nonchalantly but wickedly scheming with the sheet. To emphasize her challenging pose she looked at him with a sinful sultry smile through half closed eyes, defying him to tear the fabric off of her. He almost dropped the bottle and had to restrain himself not to jump her this very instant. Instead he made a show of carefully uncorking the bottle and decanting the wine meticulously into two small earthen cups. He’d never known he possessed such crockery, but had just found them in the cupboard in the kitchen he had paid a short, almost feverish visit to find some vessels to pour the wine into. Because for this one time he didn’t want to drink straight out of the bottle. He would clean up the chaos he had created the next morning. Or the day after. Maybe.

‘You can act as if you want to take all the time in the world, but your body betrays you,’ she chuckled in the meantime. And added teasingly, ‘At times like this it must feel so awkward to be male.’ But he didn’t take the bait. He was very much aware of his very obvious arousal but decided to pay no attention to it. Or at least to take his time, celebrating in advance what he would do to her and with her. Oh, and a celebration it would be.

‘Really?’ he said with a crooked smile, ‘I thought you females liked a little display of virility. I know _you_ do.’ He walked over to the bed with one cup in his hand and sat next to her. He tipped her head, supported her at the nape with one hand and poured some of the wine between her smiling lips. He dipped into her mouth and sipped the liquid from her tongue. She hummed approvingly. With one finger he removed the sheet from her, tossing the cloth on the floor. He slowly spilled some wine over her breasts and elegantly licked it from her flesh, grazing her taut nipples. He left a trail of the Aggrigio Parvali from her sternum to her feminine triangle and followed the sweet path, diving his tongue into the tiny lake he had created in her belly-button. His fingers briefly touched her swollen nub. She moaned and arched her back, inviting him to bolder actions. But he forced himself to take it slow. He put the cup of wine down on the floor and returned to her breasts, licking and softly biting each nipple with care, still tasting the wine on her skin. His tongue wandered to that spot behind her ear that drove him wild while his fingers played with her sex, feathering over her damp folds, shortly dipping into her wetness but never fully entering her. She bucked in frustration.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he whispered.

‘I want you,’ she groaned. She grasped his shoulders. ‘Isn’t that obvious, you maddening elf? I want _you_!’ She spread her knees even wider to tempt him.

He closed his eyes and inhaled her intoxicating smell. It would be so easy to give in to her plea. He positioned himself between her legs. His taut length touched the opening of her yearning sheath, he almost entered her but lingered, teasing her.

‘Fenris, please,’ she begged, ‘I need you. I need to feel you inside me.’ She moved her hips to catch him but he retreated. He sat up and pulled her into his arms.

‘Not yet,’ he said. His lips grazed her cheek and moved to her eyes, her temple, her nose, delicately nipping her skin while his fingers caressed her hair. She relaxed in his arms and let his tender admiration come over her. He picked up the wine again and offered her a sip. At first she looked like she was going to slap it out of his hands but then a smile bloomed. She courteously accepted and emptied the cup. He drank the last drops of her lips. Her arms snaked around his waist and neck and together they descended gracefully on the mattress once more. The empty vessel smashed on the floor.

‘I want to worship you,’ he whispered.

Her fingers weaved through his fabulous soft moonlike silky hair.

‘You have been doing nothing but that since the day we met,’ she breathed. ‘Even though you didn’t want to in the beginning.’

After some contemplation he chortled. ‘You are right. You took my breath away in that dreadful Alienage. You infuriated me the moment I found out you were a mage but by then it was far too late. I tried to resist but with no avail. You had already enchanted me, you evil woman.’ He caught her mouth once more and enticingly slowly let his tongue twist around hers.

When they broke their kiss, Marian whispered, ‘And _you_ swept me of my feet the moment I saw you, you blasted elf. I hated you for it. You turned all my feelings into a raging turmoil. I couldn’t sleep for nights in a row.’ Her face was flushed and she looked absolutely heavenly in her bliss.

He happily tousled her hair. With a smile he brushed his lips against her skin. ‘I want to taste you,’ he whispered. ‘You are more exquisite than an Orlesian banquet and I will have every last bite of it.’ And he did taste her. Every part of her. He took the time to descend along her body, devouring every inch of skin he came across. He spread her feminine lips and let his tongue do the work. By that time she was but a puddle of hot desire.

She felt her body come apart and then he stopped. Just a heartbeat before a mighty orgasm hurled her off the surface of every earth thinkable, he simply walked away to pick up the cup still holding wine from the table. It made her hopping mad and she yelled out in frustration. He just smirked.

But she knew exactly how to punish him.

The moment he handed her the Aggrigio Parvali she grabbed his waist and threw him on the bed. The rich red liquid flew every way and got completely wasted but she couldn’t care less. He let go of the cup and it crashed into pieces on the tiles. She straddled him and rested the palms of her hands on his muscular chest. ‘Do you really think you can treat me like that and get away with it without retribution?’ she said with her most gravelly voice. He quivered.

She let her hands and mouth roam down his taut abdomen and on purpose skipped his most appealing feature to knead her fingers into his thighs. She stifled a laugh when she heard his badly concealed protest. But, of course, she couldn’t control herself. On the other hand, that was part of his punishment. Her fingertips strolled out of their own will to his craving hard member that was hungrily waiting for her attention. Her lips followed.

Tantalisingly slow she let her tongue move across his proud standing length and swirl around his smooth tip. She took him into her mouth and licked and suckled his delicious cock, letting her tongue rove over every piece of it, returning to the small slit in his tip and play with it while her hand delicately squeezed his hardened balls. When his body went tight and she felt him ready to come she sucked hard, taking all of him at once. He cried out with intense pleasure. And then she let his cock slip and sat up, taking in his disappointment with wicked glee.

He glared viciously at her. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ he grunted.

She gave him an impish grin. ‘Just payback, love.’

He flew up and turned her on her hands and knees before she knew what was happening. He rejoiced in the sight of her exposed naked behind and laid his hands on her buttocks. She tried to turn but he forced her back. ‘I don’t think so,’ he panted heatedly. He leant over her and grumbled in her ear, ‘You don’t want to know how alluring you look from this position.’ His rough velvet voice, even more drenched in hot molten dark sugar at this moment, almost gave her an orgasm. If possible, she got even wetter. She twitched.

‘Fenris,’ she managed to warn him, ‘if you’re going to put this off any longer, I am going to murder you.’

‘I’m willing to take that risk,’ he murmured. He sat up on his knees and twisted an arm firmly around her stomach to keep her in position. With the hand of his other arm he caressed the silken skin of her back, softly massaging her muscles. He kissed her all along her spine until he reached her shoulders and his body was bending over hers and he touched all of her once more. She turned her head and he caught her lips.

‘Please Fenris,’ she whimpered, ‘I can’t take it anymore.’

It was all the encouragement he needed. He took possession of her, inch by delicious inch, and when he had totally filled her, he started pounding. Slowly, ever so slowly. And then he withdrew and pushed back, but only slightly. She groaned frustrated.

‘Why so hasty?’ He let his breath swirl around her ear. She tried to turn but he held her steadily.

‘Because I want you. Now!’ She was near to tears.

He repeated his actions, going deeper with every thrust. He wanted to last this forever. His fingers again found her swollen nub; his other hand clasped around one of her firm breasts. She pushed her body against his, urging him to go faster. And he did. Whether he wanted to or not, he couldn’t ignore her desire any longer. Or his. He felt she was close to exploding.

When she screamed out his name in heavenly delight, he almost lost it. But he sustained, he succeeded in keeping his control. He let her ride out her height that seemed to last forever and then he withdrew, slowly and carefully. He caught her crumpling body and oh so tenderly laid her down.

She felt his arms around her frame, his warmth surrounding her; she could almost taste his dedication in the sweat on his heated skin. She was in tears, completely torn apart by what he had given her and denied himself. ‘Why are you tormenting yourself like this?’ she whispered.

He smiled in her hair once more. ‘Because it is a sweet agony. Because I love seeing you in this bliss. Because I don’t want to stop this.’ He kissed her softly but it seemed to her like the most passionate kiss he had ever shared with her. She drew him close.

‘Stop this nonsense,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I know your stamina and we’re going nowhere. We have all night. All the time of the world. The rest of our lives. You can repeat this as often as you want. As we want.’

He hesitated, letting his hands wander over her beloved body. By now he knew every curve, every birthmark, every scar ... though the thin white lines were new. But before the awful recollections overwhelmed him, she pulled him on top of her and suddenly he couldn’t hold back any longer. He plunged into her, completely drowned in her, and cried out in total ecstasy when, minutes later, he got engulfed by a devastating climax.

He tried not to collapse on her, but she took him in her arms and held him so tense it was hard to say who was crushing who.

 ‘I love you so much,’ she whispered in utter happiness. ‘I want to be with you for always.’

A lot of what had happened trampled on the threshold of his memory again, but with force he cast it aside and managed to murmur the only thing that mattered. ‘I am yours forever.’ He buried his face in her shoulder. He wanted to offer her the world but it was not his to give so he added, ‘It’s the only thing I can give you anyway.’ 

She turned to him with a bright smile. ‘And the only gift I will accept with whole my heart.’

He tenderly traced the contour of her face. ‘The moment I met you, I knew you were an enchantment.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is how the story ends...
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me along the ride and even more for your support.  
> Special thanks to all of you who made me happy with a kudos ar a comment. I love you all!!


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